Merry and Bright?
by Triskell
Summary: CATS. Rated R for mature themes, abuse, and emotional turmoil. Pouncival's introduction into the tribe.


Author: Triskell  
Summary: Pouncival's introduction into the tribe.  
Rating: PG-15, some scenes mild R  
Disclaimer: The Jellicle Cats belong to TSE, ALW & RUG. No copyright infringement is intended. The story is mine.  
  
AN: This story was inspired by Karl Morgan's interpretation of Pouncival in the video. He was quiet, thoughtful and serious most of the time and kept at the sidelines, showing his adorable smile in rare, unguarded moments only. The wild mischievousness that I've seen so prominently displayed by some actors on stage just wasn't there. That did of course intrigue me…

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** Merry and Bright? **  
© Triskell, July 2001  


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Night had fallen, covering the dirt of Tottenham Court with its forgiving shelter of darkness. A few drunk pollicles rummaged through trash cans in a back alley, otherwise an eerie silence had settled onto the area. In between a couple of black bin liners lay the shivering form of a kitten.  
  
It was no more than three months old, the white of its fur only a dirty grey, the only thing bright and clear in its face the large greenish brown eyes. Though it wasn't yet winter, the night air was chilly. Very much so. Another shiver ran through the thin frame and the kitten put its paw across its head in a futile, protective gesture when a deep, drunken voice boomed through the alley, "Where th' 'ell are ya, kit?"  
  
'I'm not going back, I'm not going back…' a voice inside his head chanted. The tom kitten sighed quietly as he tried to squeeze between a trashcan and a broken chair, hoping to find shelter. His back hurt. As did his stomach. And his paws. The feeling was nothing new to him, but it still haunted him.  
  
All he wanted was to be left alone. A shadow flitted across the alley. Furrowing his brow, the kitten looked up. Someone was there, looking at him - he could make out the bright glowing of cats' eyes…and they moved towards him, very slowly.  
  
"Hi," the other feline said, almost shyly, stepping into the sliver of moonlight that fell into the alley, "I…I've lost my way and…could you help me?"  
  
Another tom, about his own age, black fur, white chest, paws and tail tip. Well groomed - the coat was shining in the spare illumination. Probably a house cat.  
  
"Where do you live?"  
  
His voice sounded raw, broken. He didn't speak often. Begging, pleading under tears, but not speaking to another cat. It was strangely comforting to once say something without being hurt at the same time.  
  
"At the junkyard. I'm a member of the tribe there… my name's Quaxo."  
  
A white paw was stretched out in greeting, yet he didn't know whether he should shake it. He had seen the elder toms in the area do it - but wouldn't he just get the impeccably clean fur dirty? Shaking his head, he backed away a step, putting distance between the other kitten and himself,  
"I'll take you. It isn't far."  
  
He had heard of the junkyard. Who hadn't - not that it was a place one ventured to when one had been born in the Tottenham Court District. Once or twice he had crept around near it, listening to the laughter until it became too hard to bear. He couldn't remember having ever laughed himself.  
  
The two of them walked in silence, until Quaxo stopped. The streets were familiar to him now.  
  
"You know the rest of the way?"  
  
"Yes… thank you."  
  
Why did it seem to Quaxo that his guide was embarrassed by his smile, trying to look away? Now that they were in a more open area he could see the shabby coat…the other kitten looked like a mangy stray. But he couldn't quite believe he was one of those cats he was forbidden to play with. This tom _felt_ nice - like his friend Tumble in a way.  
  
"Wanna come play tomorrow? I'll introduce you to the other kittens from the 'yard."  
  
A pollicle howled, police sirens sounded in the distance. 'He wants to play with me? Why?' It wasn't as if anyone had ever asked him before. He nodded, ashamed of himself the moment he did. He was being foolish. They'd only have a good laugh at him and send him away again. Turning around abruptly, he ran into the shadows of the nearest alley, vanishing.  
  
Quaxo remained alone, surprised. He couldn't make out the strange kitten at all. Better not tell any of the adults that he was coming to play the next day. They were so strict about strays - somehow his new acquaintance needed to be kept a secret…just like his little midnight excursion…  
  
'Why am I doing this?' the kitten wondered as he slipped through the streets, keeping in the shadows. He had spent the better part of the morning grooming his fur - not that it looked any cleaner, but at least it didn't stick out wildly in all directions. He had the sinking feeling he'd only face rejection. Hope was futile, and yet it was what made him get up every morning, even though he hardly knew how he could still feel it.  
  
The little tom he had met the night before was sitting in front of the junkyard's gates, chatting with three other kittens. They fell silent as he approached.  
  
"Hi - these are Tumble, El and Vicky. The others had to help Jenny with the cockroaches," Quaxo said, smiling brightly as he indicated each one of his friends.  
  
"Jenny's our resident Gumbie Cat - she trains mice and critters to make sure they won't bother the humans," one of the kittens, a queen with a fluffy coat that was almost blindingly white explained. Her voice was soft and he could see she was trying hard not to stare at him.  
  
"What's your name?" the tom sitting beside Quaxo asked, eyeing the stranger suspiciously.  
  
'Name? Oh well…any four letter word common in the Tottenham Court area will do.' Aloud he said, somewhat hesitantly, "Bernard." A human who owned a pub had that name. It was as good as any.  
  
El looked at him, quizzically, "Bernard? Ah…nice to meet you."  
  
"Shall we play hide and seek?" Vicky asked, blue eyes sparkling.  
  
Tumble groaned, "That's so kittenish! Let's play tag!"  
  
"Only because you never find anyone," the white queen replied, sticking out her tongue as she bounded away, "Your turn!"  
  
Giggling, El joined her and Quaxo, rushing past Tumble, shouted, "Run Bernard!"  
  
Unsure of what to do, the mangy tom set off after the others, not quite certain he was supposed to actually join in the game.  
  
His initial fear of being laughed at or thrown out abated somewhat during the day since the other kittens were perfectly friendly to him. In the late afternoon he met with Etcy, Jemi and Plato who had just come back from cockroach training. Neither of them commented on his appearance, simply smiled at him and nodded in acknowledgement when they were introduced.  
  
Just as the clock struck nine, a shrill female voice rang out over the junkyard, "Kittens! Bedtime!"  
  
"It's mum - we'd better be going," Etcy said, giggling when Plato stumbled over the paw Jemi had quite innocently put into his way.  
  
"Are ya coming tomorrow, Bernard?"  
  
Looking around at the others, he smiled slightly, nodding.  
  
"Great! See ya then!"  
  
"Bye!"  
  
"Sleep well!"  
  
Waving, the kittens set off, leaving the little tom alone. He trudged out of the junkyard as quietly as he could, trying to figure out where he had best stay for the night. He had sworn he wouldn't go back home, that much was clear…  
  
He spent the next few days at the junkyard, playing, smiling and for the first time laughing. It was on a rare sunny morning that he ran there, actually skipping - and met his new friends who were already waiting for him. Once again his coat looked scruffy and mangy compared to their shining ones, even though he had washed himself even more thoroughly. But now, it didn't really seem to matter so much anymore…  
  
Just as they were about to set off for another game of tag, two calico kittens a little older than them appeared.  
  
"Hiya you two - this is Bernard and these are…" El began, but was interrupted by a high pitched giggle.  
  
"So that's the reason for yer sneakin' off! My, Jenny'd be so angry!" the young calico queen stated, matter-of-factly, her grin infectious.  
  
Etcy shrugged, "Mum doesn't need to know everything, does she?" She winked.  
  
"Oh no," the other calico interjected, grinning. He cast a glance at Bernard and offered him his paw, "Jerrie."  
  
Hesitantly, the tom took it, as if afraid of being bitten. "Teazer." The young queen giggled again, pushing past her companion and shaking her new acquaintance's paw with vigour. Her eyes were laughing and kind as she put her arm round his shoulder and declared, "Now, any of ya mind if we join? We gotta get a chance ta make friends wi' Bernard too!"  
  
"We're playing tag," Tumble announced, tipping Jerrie on the shoulder with his tail, "You're on, mate!"  
  
Teazer squealed with delight, causing Bernard's ears to ring at the tone. She took his paw tightly and dragged him after her, giggling.  
  
"I'll get ya, jest wait and see!" Jerrie screamed, rushing after them. Soon the kittens were engaged in a wild and loud game, oblivious to their surroundings, even to the silver tabby and the ginger queen that had come up behind them.  
  
"Won't you introduce us to your new playfellow?"  
  
The kittens whirled around at the quiet voice, staring at the two cats. "Mum," Etcy breathed and Teazer mumbled, "Great, now Munku'll lecture us again."  
  
Bernard supposed that 'Munku' was the tabby, and he stepped forward hesitantly, not looking up, bowing his head in what he hoped would be interpreted as deference. Some cats he knew were angered by any show of respect…or weakness…or just by his being there…  
  
"Well, will you tell us your name, little one?"  
  
"Bernard." It didn't seem that much of a lie anymore, he slowly felt that this was indeed his name and since he had no other as it was…  
  
"Might I ask where you live?"  
  
"Jenny!" Teazer's voice, drawling out the word as if she were bored, "Why do ya 'ave ta be so proper!"  
  
"Because you aren't, my dear," the ginger queen retorted, silencing the calico.  
  
"I'm Munkustrap and this is Jennyanydots," the tabby spoke up for the first time. He had a warm, soft voice and when Bernard looked up he saw that the other tom was not more than a year old though he carried himself like an adult cat.  
  
"Now, little one, where was it you said you lived?"  
  
"I…I…near…To-tte-tenha-m C-o-ou-rt R-oa-oad," it wasn't really a lie, after all, the alleys in this area were his sleeping place.  
  
"Ah. Etcy, Jemi, do go home and tell Skimble that I need to talk to him. And you're all grounded. I've had it with your running away from your kittensitter. It's not safe to play in this area of the junkyard, especially when we don't know where you are."  
  
"I'm sure Munku knew, otherwise 'e wouldna 'ave found us," Jerrie mumbled, receiving a sharp look from the tabby that silenced him.  
  
Jennyanydots turned towards Bernard, "It was nice meeting you," then she looked at her daughter and the other kittens and smiled slightly, "Why don't you come to dinner tomorrow evening? We'd love to have you - if your parents don't mind of course."  
  
"No…yes…I…they won't." How could they mind? He wasn't even living at home…  
  
"We'll see you tomorrow then, Bernard."  
  
The ginger queen turned around, waving for the kittens to follow her, the silver tabby not far behind. Teazer came up to the young tom, whispering into his ear, "Don't ya worry, she'll love ya - she jest wants ta get ta know 'er precious one's playfellas…"  
  
The evening shadows lengthened to darkness when the mangy little tom neared the junkyard the next day. He was exhausted, having had to hide from a few rough cats for most of the day, crouched behind, in and between dustbins and bin liners, getting himself even dirtier than he already was.  
  
He looked far from presentable now and his tongue was aching from trying to groom his coat. After a few hours, he had given up altogether, sneezing hard from the dust and the various substances clinging to his fur. While he didn't really think he would be welcome in his present state, he knew he couldn't stay away.  
  
He had gone hungry for most of his life and the prospect of actually getting something that had not already been chewed on by humans or cats was quite enough to make him overlook his fear and reluctance to trespass into a family he hardly knew.  
  
"There you are. I was beginning to worry," the tabby's tone was chiding as he looked the little tom up and down. "Jenny told me to wait for you. She thought your parents would drop you off - she wanted to invite them as well."  
  
"Ah…" Anything Bernard might have thought of saying was cut off when the other cat started licking his face, smoothing his fur. It was more than unexpected and the kitten had no idea how to react, standing stock still, his heart beating too fast. The touch was soft, gentle, not at all what he was used to…  
  
"You had…something…there…" it was a half-hearted attempt at an explanation. How did one tell such a young cat that it seemed his parents weren't taking care of him at all? Jenny would have a fit when she saw her guest.  
  
A small sigh escaped the tabby as he placed his paws around the kitten's shoulders, wondering at the tenseness that settled on the small frame, "I'll show you to Jenny's place."  
  
Bernard was aware of the ginger queen's scrutiny, his blush only modestly hidden by his dirty white fur. Etcy sat beside him, chatting away and Jemi tried to seem as carefree as possible too.  
  
"So now, lad, why don't ya tell us something about yer family?" The young tom looked up for only a moment into kind, green eyes. Jenny's mate, another ginger tabby by the name of Skimbleshanks was a Scotsman by birth, and a Londoner in his heart. Jemi had mentioned that he was responsible for the humans' mail trains going to Glasgow once each week, Bernard recalled.  
  
"I…my…we…that is I…I'm living with…my…dad," it came out as a nervous stammer.  
  
"Oh, just like us then," Jemi offered, smiling sweetly at Skimbleshanks. The tabby was not to be distracted, however.  
  
"Well, that's nice, lad. Jenny and I, we'd love ta meet up with him sometime," the two ginger cats exchanged a glance, "ya could bring him round for dinner ya know - we like ta have company…"  
  
"Oh yes, we most certainly do…"  
  
"Pass the gravy please, Jemi," Etcy said, pouring some more onto Bernard's plate and putting another slice of meat on top.  
  
Skimbleshanks smiled, "It's sure good ta see a young one with a healthy appetite, ain't it Jenny?"  
  
"Oh yes, quite." The ginger queen's lips were pursed. That kitten had seemed thin enough the first time she saw him; now that she'd had a better chance to take in his looks she was appalled. He was skinny to the point of his bones showing - with an appetite like that she wouldn't have supposed it - and his coat was…horrifyingly dirty. He didn't seem to have any manners either - not that he was impolite per se - rather frightened, never putting himself forward, almost disappearing where he sat.  
  
It was almost ten o'clock when someone knocked softly on the metal pipe in front of the ginger cats' home. "Come on in dear, we've just finished."  
  
A tall tom appeared in the room, nodding politely, "I hope I'm not too early."  
  
"Not at all dear, did you have a good time with Gus and Old Deuteronomy?"  
  
"Yes, thank you. Jelly made a wonderful meat stew and then Gus told us the wildest stories about his journeys through America with a touring company."  
  
Jenny smiled at Bernard, whose eyes were closing already, just like Etcy's and Jemi's and Skimble said, "Now lad, it's late already. This is Admetus," indicating the other tom, "he'll take ya home. I hope ya'll come and play with the others again soon."  
  
Etcy grinned, trying to mask her yawn and Jemi started up out of a soft doze to mumble, "Bye."  
  
"I can go home on my own, really. It's ok, I know the way…"  
  
"Of course you could, Bernard, but we'd prefer you were not alone on the streets at night."  
  
'If they only knew…'  
  
"My…dad…I'll meet him…he's working and he'll…"  
  
"Well then Admetus will accompany you to wherever you're meeting your dad." Jenny was adamant. As if she'd let a kitten run around town on his own!  
  
Bernard acquiesced, his mind racing. He couldn't very well refuse - but how was he to keep that tom from finding out where and how he lived? The only possibility he had left was to…pretend once again.  
  
"It's right around the corner, you can go back now."  
  
'Please go, please go…'  
  
"I'll walk you to the door…"  
  
Bernard sighed. He had hoped he'd get around this. Taking a deep breath he stepped forward, leading Admetus to a seedy bar. The elder tom looked at him quizzically and he said, quietly, "My dad's a…barkeeper."  
  
'Well, really he is a drunk who steals and bullies…'  
  
"I see. So, Bernard, it was nice meeting you. Sleep well."  
  
Sending a silent prayer to the powers above, whatever they were, the kitten waited until Admetus had passed out of sight around the corner, before slinking off into the shadows. He had been living not too far from that particular bar of late, hiding in a burnt out trashcan. He sneezed when the coaly dust got into his sensitive nose before curling up in a tight ball, cold in the chilly air, but at least not hungry for once.  
  
To the kittens' surprise and delight, Jenny and Skimble declared Bernard to be a good sort of tom, even though he didn't seem to be properly cared for. They had no objection to their playing together - but they did ask the young cats to be cautious nevertheless and to always tell Munkustrap where they were going.  
  
"We know so little about him. He seems like a nice enough kit, and though he's not properly brought up he is quiet and pleasant. Still I would you were careful and didn't go off with him alone. You can play at the junkyard - nowhere else - understood?"  
  
Oh yes, the kittens understood perfectly well. As long as their new playmate was considered to be no grave danger they were satisfied. Each of them had grown fond of Bernard in their own way and they were reluctant to give up their new friend entirely.  
  
Quaxo did take this warning to heart more than the others, however. He had met the young tom on the street, seen the disarray of his fur, the dirt and he was by no means sure that they knew even as much about Bernard as Jenny thought they did.  
  
Though he didn't want to alarm the elders, he did talk to Munkustrap, making the tabby promise not to breathe a word of his own suppositions.  
  
"I don't know, he just doesn't seem…"  
  
"…honest?"  
  
"Well, he's not…I don't know. It's just…I _feel_ there's something not right about his story."  
  
The tabby nodded, "Alright, Quax, then I'll keep my eyes and ears open. I trust your perception."  
  
The black tom let out a long breath. At least he didn't need to worry as much now.  
  
"I don't think he's bad, you know…"  
  
"No, I'm sure he isn't. Just not quite honest about something."  
  
And so they let the matter lie…  
  
A few weeks passed and come November sleet and snow lay amidst the broken wisps of fog, making playing outside quite impossible at times.  
  
Bernard visited his friends, but not as often as before and he always left to go 'home' well before dusk, evading Jenny's sending Admetus along again. It was on one of the wettest and dreariest days that Quaxo decided to do some research into the other tom's story. He knew he shouldn't pry, but he just couldn't help himself. It was as if he were prompted to go that evening, hiding in the shadows, following his friend.  
  
Once in the Tottenham Court area, Quaxo's apprehension rose - it wasn't a neighbourhood he particularly liked, especially not in early evening, when the drunks were still roaming the streets and the air was full of the stenches of alcohol and traffic.  
  
He was surprised to see Bernard walk into a dark alley, one where nothing but trash was to be found. It was with a sinking feeling that he realised, after waiting for one or two hours, that the other tom was actually remaining there, in that street, as if he lived there. Still keeping on his silent watch post for a while longer, he looked out for Bernard's father - but he didn't come. No one did.  
  
Silently, Quaxo crept towards the alley, looking across the heaps of bin liners and broken bottles…to where his friend was curled up between a trashcan and a torn cushion. He was shivering and so was the black tom, for it had begun to snow again and the wind was biting into his fur.  
  
Quaxo's heart began to beat faster and faster, bile rising in his throat. He had never thought it possible someone could live like that. He was shocked - and he pitied Bernard, wanted to help. Yet what was there he could do? Turning around on his heels, he stormed off, unable to shake the sad picture out of his head, desperate to do something…anything.  
  
"Wha…Quaxo! It's past midnight! Ye're gonna wake up the junkyard…"  
  
"It's Bernard…he's…sleeping…"  
  
"Well, that's nice ta know, but…"  
  
"Alone…in…alley…cold…"  
  
"Now, Quaxo, dear, calm down, breathe…that's a good tom."  
  
Jenny patted the black kitten's back, wrapping a fluffy rug around him. Skimble shrugged, sitting down opposite the young tom and placing his paws on his shoulders,  
"There, that's better, ain't it. Now you'll start telling us the whole story from the beginning…"  
  
Bernard woke often on cold nights such as this, treading about, walking, trying to get warm before lying down again, hoping for sleep and rest. It was hard to keep his eyes open each day, and when sitting with his friends in Jenny's warm abode it was especially difficult not to succumb to the feeling of safety, of…home.  
  
A touch…a voice…he started, coming awake in an instant, drawing back, pushing his body against the frozen metal of the trash can behind him…away from his father…  
  
"There, lad, it's alright now. No need ta be afraid. We've jest come ta take ya home with us."  
  
Skimble? And Admetus? Why where they here, had he done something? The ginger tabby reached out again, taking Bernard's paw in a firm grasp, pulling him steadily closer. The kitten was shivering, eyes wide and haunted, fearful it seemed. And yet overlaying all this was the sense of exhaustion.  
  
After putting the rug Jenny had made him take around the little tom's shoulders and wrapping him up in it, Skimble lifted him, holding him close and mumbling whatever nonsense he could think of. Admetus walked just behind him, keeping a sharp lookout for trouble. This was no place for kittens, especially not when they were all alone…  
  
Bernard wanted to say something, ask where he was being taken, but he was too tired to resist the steady pull of Skimble's words, spoken in that soothing, richly accented voice and the warmth of the rug that seeped into his bones.  
  
Admetus took over the sleeping kitten half-way, handling the bundle with great care. It didn't take the two toms too long to reach the junkyard, for they had set a brisk pace to guard themselves against the chill. Munkustrap was already waiting for them, sleepy eyed, looking much younger than usual.  
  
Quaxo had woken him and told him all that had happened and to calm the overexcited kitten he had promised to take care of Bernard, if only the black tom would go back home and get some sleep.  
  
"He can stay with me and Tugger."  
  
Skimble eyed the silver tabby critically before nodding slowly. Maybe it was best he was taken care of by the tribe's kittensitter - it was clear that he couldn't be left on the streets as he was and there wasn't all too much room in the dwelling Skimble shared with Jenny, since it had been his bachelor's home and was hardly suitable for a family.  
  
"You'll call me if you need something…"  
  
"Of course…Admetus, would you…?"  
  
The tall tom nodded, carrying Bernard towards the old Ford where the tabby lived with his brother. A wide yawn met him and a black tom sporting a fluffy golden mane glared at him,  
"What are ya all up to? Depriving me of my beauty sleep…"  
  
"We're having company staying, Tug."  
  
"Ah, great…I suppose 'company' indicates this bundle here," he made a disapproving gesture towards the rug from where a soft meowing was coming…Bernard talking in his sleep.  
  
Admetus shrugged as best he could with the kitten in his arms and ducked through the opening, leaving Tugger and Munkustrap to a staring match and a few gruff, indignant remarks as he deposited his charge on the nearest bed. As it happened he had fixed on Tugger's sleeping place and the young tom was all but pleased to discover it.  
  
Admetus grinned with satisfaction, nudging him in the side before going to get some rest himself. Munkustrap indicated his own pallet with a sigh, not waiting for his brother to accept the offer before laying down beside Bernard, making sure that the rug was still wrapped tightly about him and covering him with another blanket.  
  
Catching Tugger's questioning glance he whispered, "He was sleeping on the streets - alone."  
  
The other tom glanced at the bundle across from him, nodding slightly and turning around, settling himself into his new bed, his heart beating just a little faster...  
  
Bernard was sleeping very long the next morning, since there was no cold wind or angry voice to wake him. Once he opened his eyes, he didn't know where he was, pushing his nose out of the thick blanket awkwardly.  
  
"Morning."  
  
The kitten started at the sound, trying to move away - hindered by the fabric around his body - and sank down in an undignified heap.  
  
"Calm down there. Munku'll be back in a moment, he's just getting breakfast. Told me to kittensit while he was gone. Not what I normally do, mind ya - it's not my thing. I'm the Rum Tum Tugger after all…"  
  
"Oh Tug, will you shut it?"  
  
Bernard recognised that voice at once, he had quite a good memory - indispensable for survival on the streets. It somehow comforted him to know Munkustrap was there, at least the chance of being beaten wasn't too great. The elder tom had never as much as raised his voice when talking to the kittens.  
  
"Bernard, do come out of there, nothing to be afraid…Tug! That's not your mouse!"  
  
"Ouch! YOU HIT ME!"  
  
"And I'll do it again, give me that mouse!"  
  
As the kitten's head finally protruded from the blanket, he saw the tabby sitting on top of a black tom with yellow spots on his fur and a mane about his neck who looked decidedly ill-humoured.  
  
"GET OFF OF ME!"  
  
"Give me the mouse!"  
  
With something that almost sounded like a curse, though Bernard was sure that every street urchin in Tottenham Court would have laughed at the mild innuendo, the black tom produced a mouse from beneath him, throwing it into the tabby's face with a sneer as he pushed him off.  
  
"Ya could've brought me some breakfast!" It was almost an accusation.  
  
Munkustrap shrugged, "I'm not your mother."  
  
"But you're his or what?"  
  
Bernard cowered as the two toms turned to look at him. The tabby smiled, "Not his mother, just his kittensitter."  
  
With a mock growl, he then nudged Tugger, pressing a slightly crumbly sandwich - very human made looking - into his paws, "You can have my breakfast, will that do?"  
  
'He's paying him out!' the kitten's mind was racing, he was frightened to death. Who would have thought the tabby was such a dangerous cat! He was dealing like one of the alley strays!  
  
The black tom's mouth softened as he broke off half of the sandwich, handing the other back, "If ya dare tell I'm going soft on ya I'll…" he shrugged, slipping outside.  
  
Munkustrap sighed with a smile as he turned his attention back on the wide eyed kitten, "Seems like you've met his majesty, the Tugger. Otherwise known as my brother. Or the junkyard flirt. Or, to be more precise - the greatest nuisance ever to strut about on four legs."  
  
Bernard didn't know whether to smile, to nod or to hide. His friends had lately begun teasing him as they teased each other, yet he never could guess how far the banter went and where the border to insult was overstepped. Harsh words, clear threats, that was what he was used to, what he could deal with…  
  
"Not yet awake I see. Here's your breakfast, anyway," the tabby laid the mouse in front of the kitten, still smiling, "when you've finished I'll take you to Old Deuteronomy. Did the others tell you…"  
  
Munkustrap didn't get any farther, for a black whirlwind almost bowled him over. Quaxo tried to steady the elder tom, only succeeding in making them both land on the rugs that covered the floor.  
  
"Sorry, I just…ran too fast and…couldn't stop."  
  
"I saw that, thank you. I guess…I'll see if Skimble is up yet…promise to stay here you two! I'll be back in a moment."  
  
"We'll be good, promise!" If not for the fact that the brown eyes were always sparkling with a certain mischievous fire, Quaxo might have passed off for innocence personified.  
  
Sighing, the tabby shrugged his shoulder, leaving the two kittens alone. Being the tribe's kittensitter sure wasn't the best job one could get - those little cats were all so extremely hyper and energetic. Sometimes he really wished they'd just lie down and sleep…for a few days.  
  
Bernard stared at Quaxo, unsure of what the other expected and more than a little uneasy. It was hard enough for him to fathom how anyone had figured out where he was, and then to be picked up in the middle of the night and brought to the junkyard… The concept of caring for kittens had never had a place in the little tom's mind and so he conjectured any and all possibilities, just not the most reasonable one.  
  
"I just wanted to see how you are," Quaxo blurted out, still a little breathless - or was it only his excitement and the sudden concern dawning in the dark eyes that made him seem so?  
  
"Fine." What does he want to hear? That I'm frightened to death? That this is worse than anything before? That I have no idea what I'm supposed to do?  
  
"I…have to…apologize too." The other kitten's ears pricked up. Quaxo smiled, slightly embarrassed, "You know I kinda like…exploring and…well…I followed you ho…last night."  
  
The word 'home' really didn't fit in this context the black tom thought. For all the reproof or disappointment or even gratitude he had believed his speech would produce, he was severely disappointed.  
  
Bernard continued to stare at him, wide-eyed and…scared. Before Quaxo had the chance to say something else, Munkustrap rejoined them, huffing a little when he saw that his guest still hadn't eaten his breakfast.  
  
"Now, Quax, let Bernard eat and then we'll all go and see Deuteronomy together."  
  
Neither of the two cats noticed the kitten suddenly covering, the slight shivers of the thin frame hidden beneath the folds of the blanket that still enveloped him. 'What have I done?' For all that Bernard knew, this Deuteronomy was the most important cat in the whole junkyard, the oldest and the most respectfully spoken of. Would he be punished?  
  
Since Munkustrap stubbornly refused any of Quaxo's attempts at conversation while pushing the mouse steadily closer to his guest, the kitten, trembling at his own audacity, finally touched the meat, hesitantly beginning to eat. Since the expected blow didn't come, he relaxed a little and ate hurriedly. No use to postpone bad things. They always caught up with one or so he had learned.  
  
It was a sombre trio that made its way into the vicarage gardens that morning. The air was still chilly, but at least the sun was shining sparsely from amidst a thick cover of clouds now and then, lending the day a warmer, if not pleasant atmosphere.  
  
A huge shaggy grey cat met them halfway between the house's door and the gate in the old stone wall, hugging both Munkustrap and Quaxo with a smile before turning to Bernard, who wanted nothing more than to vanish into thin air and pressed his body as flat onto the stones of the pathway as he could.  
  
"Ah, there we have the little one. Let's all go inside, it's too cold to be out long. I trust you've all had some breakfast?"  
  
The tabby nodded and so did the black tom, and the shaggy cat smiled and laughed lightly, "However, I insist you partake some of the salmon the vicar put out for me. It's quite good, if somewhat rich for an old one like me…"  
  
Shooing the younger toms inside in front of him, he then laid his paw on Bernard's shoulder. Addressing Munkustrap he said, "Left hand corner of the kitchen near the stove - take your time. Bernard and I will join you presently."  
  
So the kitten was left all alone with the huge cat, trying to make himself even smaller than he was, hoping against hope that he wouldn't be scolded too badly. His legs were tired, whether from walking or the overwhelming need for rest that permeated his body he could not tell. He stumbled into the house with his guide, trying to keep as far away from him as possible.  
  
"Come along now, Bernard. There, let's sit here, it's nice and warm."  
  
Drawing the kitten into his lap, the big tom leant heavily against the cushions on the sofa they were occupying, "Now, as I understand it you're our kittens' newest playmate."  
  
"Y..es…sir."  
  
"There's no need to be afraid, little one. I heard you were sleeping on the street last night. Do you often do that?"  
  
"Ah…I…my…yes," Bernard muttered finally, giving in. He couldn't lie to that cat. For all that it was possible, he just couldn't do it. His body curled up reflexively, minimizing the places onto which blows could fall.  
  
"Skimble came to see me early this morning - he suggested you stay with us for the next few months, as long as your father doesn't object. That is, if you feel the need to ask him…"  
  
Greenish brown eyes, brighter with unshed tears looked up at the old cat as the kitten shook his head very slowly, "I don't wanna see him anymore…"  
  
A deep rumbling sigh escaped the shaggy tom and he laid his paw on the little head softly, "Then all that remains for me to do is tell you that you'll be staying at Munkustrap's place. He, as the tribe's kittensitter, will take care of you and also make sure you behave."  
  
Interpreting the shiver in the slight frame as nothing but discomfort at the air in the room, the old cat added, "So let's go and see if Munku and Quaxo have left some salmon for you…"  
  
Bernard couldn't quite believe his luck, for surely there was nothing else to explain the fact that he hadn't been shouted at or hit once in the week he had spent entirely at the junkyard so far. In fact, living with the tabby and Tugger had turned out to be comfortable, if somewhat noisy.  
  
The two brothers were squabbling almost constantly, annoyed with each other over one thing or another. What fascinated the kitten was that they never resorted to violence, no matter how much they raised their voices. They did tumble about quite a bit too, but there was no force behind their swipes and they mostly ended up laughing, their arms, legs and tails hopelessly tangled.  
  
It was very early in the morning still, the mists had not yet cleared and both Munkustrap and Tugger were fast asleep. Bernard, however, was wide awake, sitting up amidst the piles of rugs the tabby had insisted on draping over him as he stared into nothingness, hearing a soft, musical voice.  
  
"Pouncival! Pouncival!" it said, over and over again. The kitten shook his head a few times, trying to get the sound out of his ears, but it rang in them, clearly and yet quietly, almost like a caress. Finally he mumbled, "Yes."  
  
He shivered when a warm gust of wind swept across his body, and lilting laughter broke through his thoughts, "Welcome to the Jellicles, Pouncival." And the voice was gone.  
  
"Why're you so quiet today, Bernard? You haven't touched your breakfast either, are you alright?" The tabby's paw was already on the kitten's forehead, an automatic gesture, yet the elder tom was concerned to see a tremble at the touch.  
  
"I'm fine, thank you sir."  
  
"Does something bother you? If you wanna talk…"  
  
"Then just don't try for Munku - he'll make you wish you could have the problems instead of his help…hey! Just trying to warn…" Tugger exited with a shriek as a torn cushion was flung in his direction.  
  
"So, as I said…"  
  
"I dreamt…someone spoke to me, but I was awake and I heard her…she called a name. I…don't understand."  
  
The kitten was clearly confused and, of course, frightened. Munkustrap was beginning to associate various stages of fear with the young one and he didn't like that one bit. Even the youngest members of the tribe, for all their trembling and fluttering were calmer and less skittish than Bernard.  
  
"What name did the voice say?"  
  
"P…P…oun…Pouncival."  
  
"Ah. And did she address YOU with this name?"  
  
"I…think so, sir."  
  
"Lovely! So that means Bernard isn't your second name after all! Pouncival sounds fabulous!"  
  
The kitten simply stared at his elder, not quite comprehending the elation over an overzealous imagination that produced weird daydreams.  
  
"Well…I gather from your lack of enthusiasm that you have no idea what I'm talking about…"  
  
"Yes sir." The little head hung dejectedly as if in shame.  
  
Munkustrap chuckled, "So…let me just give you a brief overview - you are a Jellicle. This title belongs to each and every cat, no matter where he comes from, which tribe he belongs to and what his pursuits and goals in life. Jellicles have three names - the first one being nothing more than a common name to be called by indifferent acquaintances or humans if you prefer to adopt one of their families."  
  
Making sure that the kitten was following his words and understanding them, the tabby continued,  
"The second name is one that you're given by the higher powers, one that comes to you in sleep, by intuition or through meditation. It is your personal name and you chose who may call you by it. And the third name is hidden, a secret to all. It will come to you sometime during your life and only you will know it, yet it will remain unspoken as a whisper in your head for all time."  
  
The kitten's mouth was by now wide open and just about as huge as his eyes. Never before had he been told such a story - and it had to be handed to Munkustrap that he had a pleasant voice which he knew how to use for maximum effect when speaking. Narration was one of his gifts and he cultivated it by taking lessons from the theatre cat whenever he could.  
  
"I hope that answers your questions for now - Gus will surely love to detail the account for you - he is something like our legend keeper. An actor by profession and a story teller by his soul and heart."  
  
"So I don't have to call myself Bernard anymore?"  
  
"Not unless you prefer that name."  
  
"I like Pouncival better."  
  
"Right, then that's what I'll be calling you - until the other kittens come up with a nickname that is…"  
  
"MUNKU! BERNARD!" Etcy almost fell onto her nose, rushing at them with a huge grin on her face, "Mum has invited you to dinner! AND TUGGER TOO!"  
  
The tabby smiled blandly, trying to hide his amusement at the hyper little queen's obvious enthusiasm for his brother, "Thank Jenny, please and we'll _all_ be coming. We're looking forward to it. Should we bring any…"  
  
"GREAT! SEE YA!"  
  
And the bright spot of fur was already gone. Munkustrap laughed outright, "Seems like we have just got ourselves a good warm dinner, Pouncival."  
  
The kitten smiled slightly, averting his eyes as he blushed. He liked the new name very much indeed - the first thing that was truly his…  
  
Pouncival was very nervous when he, Munkustrap and Tugger set out for Jenny's abode. Since the tabby's brother had only snorted somewhat dismissively at being told the kitten's name, the little tom was by no means assured that everyone would like it as much as he did. The elation and enthusiasm he had felt earlier were quenched already; _'you should have realised you'd be put down'_ a small voice in his head chided him.  
  
A paw fell onto his shoulder and the kitten jumped, pulled out of his reverie abruptly. Looking up, he saw Tugger's grin and relaxed somewhat,  
"You're as jumpy as a queenkit, you know that Pounce?"  
  
"Ah, so you see Pouncival, you've already gotten a nickname," Munkustrap remarked gravely, his eyes fastened on a young black and gold coloured queen as he smiled in her direction.  
  
His brother chuckled and nudged the kitten at his side, "Someone's in love and won't admit it," he whispered into the twitching ear nearest to him confidentially and, addressing the tabby, continued with a lazy smile, "I talked to Bomba the other day - we're having a double date tomorrow - you and Demeter, me and Bomba. You don't mind, do ya?"  
  
"Ah…you should have told me before…" The sparkle in his eyes betrayed just how much Munkustrap really minded. Pouncival tried hard to hide his smile. He understood quite well that Tugger had arranged that double date more for his brother than himself - it hardly ever happened that the heartthrob actually indulged the company of anyone but his lady…  
  
"TUGGER!" Etcy flung herself at her idol, whisking past the grey tabby at whirlwind speed and stepping on his front paw in the process. Skimble looked out of the door, shaking his head in amusement as he beckoned for the three toms to come in.  
  
Jemi was laying the table and looked up briefly as they entered, blushing at the sight of Tugger and averting her gaze shyly.  
  
"Go on, tell her your name," Munkustrap urged the kitten forward, softly shaking his hurting paw, a faraway look stealing into his eyes. If that was love, the little tom was sure he didn't ever want to experience that - cats looked so queer then…  
  
"Hi Jemi," he breathed, receiving a soft smile from her.  
  
"Hi Bernard, glad you could come too. I haven't seen you for a while."  
  
It was true, ever since he had been 'rescued' from the streets, he had been told to stay close to Munkustrap - and though it had been no more than a few days, he had missed playing with his friends. Not quite understanding that the tabby had shown him around the junkyard to make him feel more comfortable in his new home and point out possible dangers, he rather presumed he was being punished for some thing or other.  
  
"Sit down, dinner's ready in a moment - Bernard, Jemi, Etcy, will you help me? Skimble, get the drinks!"  
  
Jenny's voice booked no refusal and everyone did as they were told, Etcy even taking her eyes and her paws - which she had had wrapped about Tugger's leg - off the elder tom for a moment.  
  
When everyone was seated around the table, Munkustrap, seemingly returned from wherever his fancy had led him, smiled at the little tom and said, "Bernard has some exciting news by the way."  
  
As every eye turned onto him, the kitten cringed, yet he tried to keep his chin up and the tremor out of his voice as he announced, quite formally, "I have a second name now and that is Pouncival… Or Pounce," he added, almost as an afterthought.  
  
"Congrats, lad!"  
  
"Oh, I love that name!"  
  
"Very nice indeed."  
  
"Grand!"  
  
Pouncival was a little unsure of how to take all the good-natured wishes he received, so he just smiled, blushing even harder and feeling a warm glow inside him that he couldn't quite explain.  
  
It was like the feeling he had had when Quaxo and the other kittens had let him play with them and it also reminded him a bit of that first evening he had eaten at Jenny's place and actually gotten his stomach full.  
  
Pouncival's other playmates were as enthusiastic about the new name as the adult cats had been - as if it were an indication that he really belonged with them. However, that was one thing that the little tom couldn't quite see - he still thought he would have to leave the junkyard again, come spring at the latest.  
  
It was this firm belief that often kept him awake late at night, wrapped up warmly in his blankets and no longer hungry, yet cold inside and afraid of what would come. Now that he knew how wonderful it was to have cats who made sure he was fine, he truly understood what he had been missing for so long - and also the implications of what going back to his old life would mean.  
  
Quaxo seemed to be the only one who noticed how distant the other tom was at times, and how seldom he smiled. Not that it should have bothered him, for Pouncival had rarely given any outward show of happiness, even while playing. His laughter hadn't been heard very often, as if he were still keeping back, trying not to be seen.  
  
Since the black kitten had no idea what was worrying his friend so much and felt that he couldn't ask either, he endeavoured to comfort and reassure the little tom as best he could, often sitting silently by his side in the spare rays of sunshine that filtered through the early winter mists.  
  
This silently offered companionship reassured Pouncival to a certain degree and it was with the greatest strength of will that he pushed aside his gloomy thoughts for most of the day, making a conscious effort to play and enjoy this life as long as it lasted.  
  
He hardly noticed the days growing shorter and the chill winds blowing even harder across the open areas of the junkyard - he didn't let the passing of time register in his mind any longer - taking each moment and grasping it heartily.  
  
It was that time of the year when the humans started with their singing on the streets and the putting up of big trees and had red-clad stocky men running about that Jenny noted to Skimble with a happy smile, "That Pounce has finally gained a bit of weight to his bones - look at him now, almost as hearty as Tumble - and he has grown too, so rapidly!"  
  
To the little tom, there was no perceptible change, only the knowledge that he never went to bed hungry and that he didn't ever feel cold. When Tugger decided to move out of the abode he shared with his brother to have some much needed privacy, Pouncival even got a bed all to himself - and a few more blankets draped over him.  
  
To the kitten's silent amusement, Munkustrap seemed to believe that only smothering a cat with blankets and wrapping them up so tightly that not even an ear or tail tip showed was the only way to prevent their freezing to death. The longer Pouncival stayed, the more rugs he got. He already had a little nest all to himself piled up on his sleeping place.  
  
"Let's go down to the stream and get some fish!"  
  
"Well, I won't. The water's mostly frozen and we've been forbidden to go."  
  
Quaxo just grinned, nudging Vicky, "Don't be such a kitten! We'll be careful and as long as they don't see us…"  
  
"Yeah!" Of course Tumble would jump at the opportunity to do anything naughty, especially when sweet Jemi had suggested it. For all her angelic appearance, the 'darn little thing queen' had the 'devil itself in her' as Asparagus had so delicately stated a few weeks earlier when she had hidden his favourite coat in a dustbin.  
  
Etcy simply grinned, and Electra was too busy putting on a red ribbon to take much notice of her surroundings. Mungo and Rumple hadn't been seen for a while - so the mischief making was up to the younger kittens as it was.  
  
"I won't go."  
  
"Suit yourself, come on guys," Tumble strutted off, in his best impression of Tugger's swaying style of walking, followed closely by a madly laughing Etcy and Jemi.  
  
"You coming El?"  
  
"What?… Fishing? No, not today, sorry Quax."  
  
The black tom shrugged, looking at Pouncival who nodded slightly, joining his friend silently as they walked down to the stream, leaving the queen kittens behind.  
  
The glassy hue of ice was glittering, catching the sparse sunlight and reflecting it in all the colours of the rainbow. Etcy sat down at the bank, staring speechlessly at the display in front of her - and the others left her like that, knowing she was off in her own world just then.  
  
For all her being the most hyper kitten in the tribe, she had her quiet moments when she just sat there, silently, oblivious to all around her. It was much like Munkustrap after he had seen Demeter, the queen he was in love with. Only that Etcy wasn't in love, just fascinated by some thing or other that managed to occupy her whole attention for a span of time.  
  
"Ice looks thick enough here, and it only thins out at the edge in the middle of the water. I can almost see the fish already!" Jemi announced, bobbing up and down a little before setting her paw softly onto the ice.  
  
The three toms followed closely behind her, spreading themselves so that each of them would have enough room at the edge of the glittering water to grab a fish as it passed.  
  
They never knew exactly how it happened - maybe the ice had been too thin after all or they had misjudged their own weight - and there was little warning except for a sudden cracking and then Jemi's and Quaxo's high pitched shrieks. Tumble leaped back onto the bank just in time and Pouncival turned around, grabbing a strong looking branch growing behind him with his tail just as the ice broke under his paws.  
  
The water was cold, even colder than the dustbins he had slept among, but he kept his wits about him, stubbornly closing his mouth and paddling hard, trying to pull himself out with his tail. He hardly felt the claws that were digging into his shoulder, only when he heard Etcy's high voice in his ear did he realize she had helped him, dragging him forcibly to the bank.  
  
Opening his eyes, he caught sight of Munkustrap, shouting to Tumble who was holding Jemi's paw as he grabbed Quaxo by the scruff of his neck, propelling him onto the ice before flinging himself onto his belly and grabbing Tumble's hind legs, pulling the two kittens to him.  
  
It all happened so quickly, or so it seemed to Pouncival as he tried to catch his breath, shivering. Etcy sat beside him, her eyes wide and her face, bright as the fur was, still paler from the shock.  
  
"MOVE YOUR PAWS NOW, BACK HOME!"  
  
Munkustrap's voice was breathless, ragged and…loud. Pouncival heard the barely suppressed anger and trembled even more, especially when it occurred to him that they had been very bad and that, if they hadn't been caught, one of them might have drowned…  
  
"I don't want to hear one word! Else I'm gonna go get Jenny."  
  
The tabby's tone was deceptively calm again but with a certain edge as he tucked the kittens into the blankets at his place. Vicky and El sat on Munkustrap's bed while the others were huddled together on Pouncival's.  
  
"I'm getting some warm milk. And I don't want you to move, understood. I'm gonna have a _serious talk_ with _all_ of you when I get back!"  
  
Any more emphasis was hardly possible. The grey tabby disappeared and the kittens exhaled as one.  
  
"Gosh, he's angry, isn't he?" Vicky mumbled.  
  
"We're in for it now!"  
  
"He'll never let us off!"  
  
"We can only hope he won't tell Jenny…"  
  
The others were all talking as one, but Pouncival only caught fragments of their conversation. The only possibility he saw was that they would be punished. Hadn't Old Deuteronomy said that Munkustrap would make sure he 'behaved'? Would they all receive a thorough beating? Or would Vicky and El just be slapped and screamed at?  
  
Why hadn't Munkustrap shouted more at them already? Was he preparing to lash out at them when they felt more secure again? That was a good tactic as the little tom well knew - and what he was most afraid of. Would it be best to remain still and cower or would it help if he apologized and begged?  
  
Any other thoughts were cut short with the reappearance of Munkustrap, accompanied by a scowling Admetus who helped carry a big bowl full of steaming milk. Where they had gotten that the kittens couldn't fathom - and in so short a time - it seemed like magic. At any other time they would have been curious and asked, but neither of the elder toms seemed like they wanted to answer any questions at the moment.  
  
"Drink that. Afterwards I'll talk to each one of you separately. And Admetus will make sure you stay put - you are all grounded by the way. For the next three weeks."  
  
Small groans were heard, not quite stifled, but the tabby didn't seem to notice. His eyes were sparkling dangerously as he beckoned to Vicky, "You're first, then you El and then Tumble."  
  
There was silence as the kittens drank their hot milk, trying to be as quiet as possible since Admetus coughed in slight irritation each time they made a sound.  
  
Pouncival shuddered more and more - Vicky returned, teary eyed; El had her jaw set in determination and wouldn't meet anyone's eyes and Tumble hung his head dejectedly, his tail trailing after him as Munkustrap led him back to the others. Etcy got up with an expression of panic on her face, but the tabby shook his head, motioning for Jemi.  
  
Quaxo was next and then Etcy. Neither of them looked any better than Tumble afterwards, and Pouncival could only imagine what they had been through. Had he looked like that each time? It was hard to see such…fear and pain…on his friends' faces. At least he never saw his own.  
  
"Pouncival." The voice was stony. Rising slowly, the kitten clenched his paws, driving his claws into the soft flesh, preparing himself for the inevitable. He wouldn't cry - that was one thing that always made it worse.  
  
Munkustrap took him to a little sitting spot in between two old cupboards. It was called "Lovers' Nook" and very comfortable with a few cushions to sit on and quite hidden from the winds. The kitten hardly noticed the old blanket lying there until the tabby wrapped him up in it. Trying hard to keep himself from flinching, the little tom stood stock still.  
  
"I'm really disappointed - in all of you. This is not something that can be said to have been mischievousness or simple naughtiness - you're too old to think that such things are funny. Why do you think you were so expressly forbidden to go to the stream?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"Pouncival, I'm talking to you."  
  
An answer? The little mind worked rapidly. Should he look up, make eye contact? Which words were most neutral? A long answer or a short one? Should he…  
  
"Pouncival!" The harsh calling forced the kitten to answer. Orders like this were what he understood best.  
  
"The…water…ice…break and fall in…and…" he panicked. Tears were welling up in his eyes, he was waiting for the first slap. 'Just get it over with.' Should he beg? Maybe he'd be let off more easily if he did? "I…deserve to be punished."  
  
It came out more self-assured than his pathetic try before. It was a sentence he had said so many times it was almost automatic. The tabby stared at him, "Punished…yes. But I want you to answer my question. I want to make sure you know WHY you're being punished."  
  
Was there a hint of warmth in the tone? No, surely not, how could there be? The kitten didn't look up, his claws digging deeper into his paws, drawing blood, hurting.  
  
"Be…because I was bad."  
  
Another automatic response. It surely would satisfy the tabby, it was always enough - the kitten squared his shoulders. Surely raising his paws now for the first strike…  
  
The little tom flinched as his chin was lifted and he was forced to meet the elder cat's eyes, "Pouncival, why were you forbidden to go to the stream?"  
  
A tear escaped, trailing down his cheek. He mustn't cry, it just wasn't allowed, not when he was facing punishment. It only made it worse, only worse…  
  
"Pounce, answer me."  
  
It had to be the use of his nickname that broke through his fear - another tear trickled into his fur, a small sob couldn't be stifled. The tabby's face was starting to swim as the kitten's eyes filled, threatening to overflow despite his attempts to remain calm. Not crying, never crying…  
  
It didn't help, another sob, he was shaking and he knew he had failed - he'd have to take the harder beating, it was his own fault. Weakness wasn't appreciated, it was punished even harsher, it had to be. The law of the street, his father's law.  
  
The kitten trembled as he saw the grey blur that was the tabby's arm coming down, fearing the impact, the blow…  
  
"Hush, Pounce, it's ok. You're safe now, it's over…"  
  
He didn't understand the words, he couldn't comprehend the warm tone, nor did he know why he wasn't hurting already, why he hadn't been hit. Grey and black blurs were all around him and he couldn't move, he dared not breathe, but he had to, for he was sobbing and he hardly saw a thing, the tears obscuring his sight.  
  
How long he cried Pouncival didn't know. It seemed like a very long time to him, interminable, always fear warring with hope, incomprehension with acceptance. He hadn't been smacked yet…  
  
"Better?"  
  
The kitten wanted to nod, but was too afraid to move, having realized just then that Munkustrap was holding him tightly and that he had been sobbing into the elder tom's chest fur all the while. Still keeping his arms around his charge, the tabby moved away a little, raising the small head up to once more meet his eyes.  
  
"Listen now. I know this was a great shock for all of you and I do think you realize that what you did was wrong - not merely because we forbid you to do it, but because it was very dangerous. You could have all drowned. We worry about you and that's why we didn't want you to go to the stream. Do you understand that?"  
  
This time he received something resembling a nod. "Good, that was all I wanted to hear from you Pounce - it's my job to let you know why you did wrong before I punish you."  
  
A shiver ran through the kitten's frame, and it surely couldn't be from the cold as he was still wrapped up tightly into the blanket. Munkustrap chose to ignore the reaction for the time being and get this over with, since the little thing seemed to have had quite enough for the day.  
  
Bringing what had been meant as a solemn lecture to the close he said, "As I said before you're all grounded for three weeks. During that time you'll help Gus out at the theatre - without complaining - and without playing any tricks on him. I know he's hard to work with, but all the better for you. In return, Admetus and I won't tell any of the other adults."  
  
Pouncival's breath hitched in his throat, every word sinking in without being duly registered. He was waiting for the conclusion that still had to come…  
  
"So, lecture ended, let's go back to the others and let you get some rest."  
  
Unwrapping the kitten partly so that he would be able to walk, Munkustrap laid his paws onto the shoulders that trembled at his touch, sighing softly as he nudged the little tom forward.  
  
Why hadn't he been hit? What was the tabby waiting for? Would there be anything else? Any… Pouncival's thoughts were cut short on reaching Munkustrap's place. Admetus sniffed at their entry, nodding at a kitten cluster that was sleeping peacefully in a nest of blankets.  
  
"Thanks Ad, I'll take over now."  
  
"Sure thing, shall I pick them up tomorrow and take them to Gus?"  
  
"That'd be great, I'll take that bowl back then."  
  
Admetus slunk out of the door which Munkustrap closed gently before turning around to face a wide eyed, still trembling kitten that seemed to be waiting for him to do something. What, he had no idea.  
  
Another sigh escaped him as he sat down beside Pouncival, wrapping the little tom up for the umpteenth time that day and whispering, for lack of any better options, "Listen, I don't know what _you_ expect _me_ to do, but what _I_ want you to do right now is to sleep. You'll have a long day tomorrow."  
  
The tabby's back was already turned when the kitten dared open his eyes again which he had pressed shut tightly, fearing a blow. His paws hurt where he had cut himself with his claws, but it had never before occurred to him that this was painful. It had always been balanced by the hurting of his back and stomach and the stinging on his face…  
  
Pouncival's eyes were closing already and a quick glance at his friends confirmed they were just as tired as he was. Not surprising, of course, for Gus had worked them hard ever since Admetus had brought them to the theatre early that morning.  
  
Now the old cat was sitting on a box, looking like a king on his throne as he beckoned the kittens to him with a grin, "Ah, isn't it wonderful to have done a good day's work?" Not expecting an answer, he continued with a raw chuckle, "I really don't know what you've been up to but you sure had Munku at the edge. Seldom seen him so agitated. But I'll make sure you learn your lesson, never fear!"  
  
"I guess that'll have to wait until tomorrow though," Admetus nodded solemnly at the theatre cat, tapping Quaxo - who was reclining in the remains of an armchair he had spent the better part of the day trying to fix - on the shoulder, startling him from a doze. "I'm taking you home now, come on, up with you."  
  
"Tomorrow at nine then?"  
  
"Fine, I'll bring them round, thank you."  
  
"My pleasure, the kits have been most helpful."  
  
Etcy groaned slightly and Jemi yawned, only Tumble seemed to be fairly awake - probably because he had managed to sneak off and get some sleep amidst the curtains he had been sent to gather up.  
  
"Hey, Pounce…can you ask Munku tonight how they got the milk?"  
  
The little tom shivered at the mere thought, but Quaxo didn't seem to notice, "I don't really know…"  
  
"Oh come on, he's not gonna eat you. I haven't been able to think of anything else. I heard that there are magical cats you know…maybe Admetus and Munku are…"  
  
"Quaxo, in you go - pick you up tomorrow."  
  
The black kitten nodded, winking at Pouncival once more before joining Jellylorum who had been waiting for him at the door. She had taken the homeless little tom in when he had been found on the street shortly after his birth, having lost her first litter a few weeks before. Her mate, Gus' son Asparagus jr., had not been exactly thrilled at first but now seemed to regard the kitten quite as his own.  
  
After Etcy and Jemi had been deposited on Jenny's doorstep, Admetus sent Pouncival across the huge clearing in front of the tire to Munkustrap's place, escorting Vicky and El out of the junkyard to the house in which their human family lived.  
  
"There you are. Had a nice day?"  
  
Though tired, the slightly teasing tone that he had heard the tabby use on Tugger didn't escape the kitten.  
  
"I dusted and stacked the old copies of plays from the boxes in the big dressing room." Surprising to think he had actually spoken such a long sentence without stammering.  
  
"Ouch. Had to do that myself once - I had hidden Jenny's sewing needles and threads and refused to tell her where they were."  
  
The surprise in the little cat's eyes elicited a chuckle, "Did you really think I always behaved? I told you not to listen to Tug - he always tries to make me seem more of a bore than I am."  
  
Maybe it was that confidentiality or the warmth in the tabby's tone that prompted Pouncival to utter the question he had been told to ask. It wasn't that he hadn't wondered himself, but he would have never dared to actually try and find out…  
  
"Howdyougetthemilk?" he blurted out, making the elder tom laugh.  
  
"Ah…maybe say that a little slower and I might even figure out what you mean."  
  
"The…milk…yesterday…how…"  
  
Munkustrap was still laughing, "Well…I suppose you won't believe me when I tell you that Ad and I have magical powers - so I'd better stick to the truth. Jenny had told me earlier that day she was warming some milk for you when you came in from playing. Ad and I just went over and told her you were having a chat at my place and asked her if we could take it over to you."  
  
Pouncival wasn't sure what to make of this reaction. He still couldn't fathom why no one had bothered to hit him until now. And he didn't understand why the tabby was actually talking to him as if nothing had happened…  
  
"Your eyelids are drooping, Pounce. Lie down now, Gus'll not let you off any more easily tomorrow…"  
  
Hard as it turned out to be, the kittens soon learned to actually like working for the theatre cat. For all his harshness he seemed to like them well enough and, after the first week, even let them play a little in between cleaning up. Sometimes he would tell them stories too, not boring ones like he told the adults, nothing about the theatrical productions he had been in - no, but adventure stories of pirates and knaves and beautiful ladies.  
  
Pouncival remembered how Munkustrap had called the old one 'a storyteller from his heart and soul' - it truly fitted. It surprised the little tom to think that there was so much power in words, that they could so vividly create a scene in front of his eyes merely by being spoken. True, he had known the harm that could be done by saying too much or too little at the wrong time and the hurt that ill chosen sentences could inflict.  
  
Yet this was so different a thing in his eyes. There was magic in the narrations, the magic of imagination and dreams, of days long gone and yet still existent in someone's mind.  
  
Munkustrap and Admetus noticed the kittens' growing enjoyment of their tasks, the glittering of their eyes when they went to Gus and the sparkle in them when they got back. Since both of them had good cause to know the power of the old tom's voice, they congratulated themselves on a job well done.  
  
They had made their point - for Munkustrap had, on being appointed kittensitter, made sure that his best friend Admetus could share in the task - and provided the theatre cat with a grateful and enthusiastic audience once more.  
  
Winter passed slowly and with little snow. It was very cold, however, and the ground didn't thaw much until well into March. Though Pouncival still dared not hope he would be able to stay, he had begun to consider the junkyard his home, feeling as safe and comfortable as never before in his life.  
  
On one of the first warm days in mid March, when the sun finally came out for long enough to cast his brightness onto the junkyard, the little tom resolved to ask Munkustrap for how much longer he would be staying. It had dawned on him that he might as well find out now and use the remaining time to find some place near the junkyard to stay at so that he wouldn't be forced to go back near Tottenham Court, to the dirt…and his father.  
  
"Ahem…Munkustrap, sir?"  
  
"Pounce," it was a groan, "stop calling me 'sir', will ya? Tug's been making fun of me again, calling me 'captain of the kittens' and you're not helping."  
  
"I'm sorry, sir…ah…"  
  
"Never mind, what is it?" The tabby looked tired for some reason, and resigned. The little tom well knew that Demeter had recently found a lover outside the 'yard whom she was seeing regularly and he attributed the elder's sober mood to that - after Tugger had told him of course.  
  
"I…wanted to ask if you…could please tell me…when I'm…leaving."  
  
"Leaving?" Munkustrap looked at the kitten incredulously. Why ever should he think he was leaving? "Don't you like it here?"  
  
"Oh no, I mean, yes…I do like it…but…after the winter…and I know…"  
  
"You know what?"  
  
"That I can't stay." A very low whisper, the small head hanging down, refusing to meet the tabby's eyes.  
  
"Really, Pounce, I have no idea where you got that idea. Listen carefully now - and look at me - there: you are a part of our tribe, you belong to us. You don't have to leave unless you want to. You are as free to stay as you are free to go."  
  
"I can stay?"  
  
"Of course you can! And we'd be more than happy if you did. You're part of the family Pounce and…"  
  
He didn't get any farther as the kitten had flung himself at him, hugging him tightly. The tabby felt the first tears drop onto his fur as he automatically gathered the little tom close. He couldn't quite understand that reaction, but then there were so many things he didn't understand about Pouncival as it was…  
  
"Is it ok if we go fishing again?"  
  
Munkustrap nodded, and the little tom bounced back to his friends, a rare smile lighting up his features, "He said we can!"  
  
"Don't know why we bother asking him in the first place, there's no ice left…" Tumble was mumbling, but Etcy nudged him hard.  
  
The kittens had, by unspoken agreement, decided not to anger the tabby if they could help it. Demeter had lately left the tribe and not even Bombalurina knew when she was coming back, or if she would return at all. That had taken its toll on Munkustrap and since even Tugger had stopped teasing his brother…  
  
Spring finally had broken the haze left by winter and so a new life truly began for Pouncival. Knowing that he had found a real home now gave him a security he had never felt before and through his friends he learned that getting into trouble didn't necessarily involve a beating, even though he had to stand up for his actions.  
  
The little tom had decided not too long ago to put his mind at rest by asking Quaxo about the most puzzling of matters at the junkyard - the fact that he was allowed to make mistakes and not hurt for it. If the black kitten had seen the past that lay behind the carefully worded question, he hadn't said so and simply stated,  
  
"Tugger explained it to me, you know. We're kittens and kittens make mistakes and get up to mischief. The adults think that we can only learn by that and that their job is to teach us why things are wrong. And they do that by punishing us - with grounding or extra chores."  
  
"Have you never been slapped?"  
  
Quaxo shrugged delicately, "Once, by Gus. I was behaving really badly, I suppose I deserved it. But usually the adults try to keep their temper in check. It's wrong to hit kittens - Deuteronomy says we won't learn anything if we're afraid of being hurt. And Munku likes explaining things to us much better anyway, cause then he can talk and he loves doing that."  
  
The last was said with a decidedly mischievous chuckle that was echoed moments later by Pouncival.  
  
"Do you think he's very unhappy?"  
  
"Who? Munku?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"It's gotta be pretty bad if Tugger is so careful around him I guess."  
  
"I don't understand Demeter. Why would she want to leave?"  
  
"Why not? The junkyard's ok, but there's so much more to see out there…"  
  
Pouncival averted his eyes. He had seen enough in his short life to last him for quite a time and he didn't really fancy any more 'excitement' in the big world outside the yard's gates. The quiet safety he indulged in was much more to his liking, even though he knew the other kittens would never be able to understand - and he couldn't very well explain it to them, his past was still a raw and painful memory.  
  
"Quax, Pounce - come here a moment please."  
  
The two toms raced up to Tugger immediately, seeing the concern that was only thinly masked on his face,  
"Do me a favour - keep the other kittens away from the assembly area for the next few hours, go fishing or something, 'kay?"  
  
"Why…"  
  
"No questions, just do it."  
  
The ice in the heartthrob's tone didn't fit his usual demeanour, but the little cats understood and nodded. Mysterious things had been going on of late, rumours that weren't meant to reach the younger ones' ears. However, Quaxo and Pouncival had found out a little more than they were supposed to from Gus.  
  
The old theatre cat had been ailing since the beginning of spring and had shown signs of an illness that Jelly called palsy as well as loss of short term memory. He was mostly reminiscing of his times as an actor now, staying with his son and Quaxo had heard talk of 'final stages' already, whatever that meant exactly neither of the kittens knew.  
  
As it was, Gus had told the little black tom that Bombalurina had met with a former lover who turned out to have found a way to Demeter's heart. This mysterious tom was, by all accounts, not to be trifled with and fairly dangerous. Jelly had come in just then and had cut the story short, making her charge promise not to speak of what he had heard.  
  
Yet she had had to extract the same promise from Pouncival when, a few days later, Gus had spilt some more beans to his audience in the midst of a narration about Growltiger, the Terror of the Thames. Not only had Demeter's connection with this tom, Macavity, caused a stir at the yard, but there was talk of her no longer being with him out of her own free will…  
  
"You think they'll be setting out to get Demeter back?"  
  
Pouncival shrugged, not able to answer as they had come across their friends, "Let's go fishing, it's nice and warm today."  
  
No one had a better proposal so the kittens set off, steering clear of the main assembly area and the junkyard, spending the day by the stream. Light heartedness prevailed, for neither of the little toms would break his word and speak of what the adults were doing. In fact, they soon were engrossed with their games, playing tag, tripping each other and finally rolling and tumbling about together, hissing and swiping at each other while trying to stifle peals of laughter.  
  
Tumble slammed hard into Pouncival, ducking a blow from Quaxo. The little tom's claws were extracting and retracting involuntarily, but he kept his calm, having learned how to deal with the play fights. Instead of lashing out, he tripped Tumble, who ended up with his nose on the ground.  
  
Satisfied with this, Pouncival didn't pay any heed to Quaxo who flung himself at his back with a delighted squeak of, "Let's tickle Pounce!" Etcy laughed as she wrestled with Vicky and Jemi was quite a handful when Tumble tried to shake her off, so only El remained to tackle the little tom with her paws.  
  
Their laughter and shouts rang through the fresh air, unconcerned kittens that were carefree and running wild. None of them noticed the tom standing in the shadow of the nearby cemetery wall, his brownish green eyes flashing dangerously as they fixed on one amidst the group and his mouth contorted in a silent sneer.  
  
It turned out that Quaxo had been right to a certain extent - Demeter had come back to the junkyard, not because she had been mistreated but because of a falling out with her lover. She was quite easily scared and jumped at just about every noise for some unknown reason though. The kittens delighted in frightening her, though it earned them disapproving glances and quite a few harsh words, especially from Munkustrap who had taken to protecting even the young queen's shadow.  
  
Come summer, Skimble took the little toms aside and Jenny dedicated herself to the queens, explaining to them exactly what would happen at the annual Jellicle Ball that was steadily drawing nearer. The awkwardness that had arisen between the kittens as they noticed the changes in themselves was now understood, but not dispelled. Each of them went their separate ways more often, preferring some solitude over the noisy, boisterous games.  
  
Quaxo drew closer into himself all of a sudden and so Pouncival was left with Tumble and Plato, hanging out and getting into trouble as often as they could. It seemed that Mungo and Rumple were less problematic than they were - or so Munkustrap said each time he scolded them.  
  
Pouncival enjoyed the opportunities to be alone, as he enjoyed the company of his tom friends. Yet he missed Quaxo and the queen kittens frequently, maybe in remembrance of the days they had spent with each other or the warm acceptance with which they had taken him into their midst.  
  
The black tom had just recently been found to possess 'powers'. Not much more was actually known - junkyard rumours for all that they provided a wealth of information were sometimes scarce or inaccurate when there was truly something to tell.  
  
Yet it was widely presumed that Quaxo was, in fact, a magical cat. The telepaths Tantomile and Coricopat, quiet and unassuming twins that hardly ever spoke up and kept to themselves mostly, were often seen with him, teaching him or so the rest of the tribe thought.  
  
It was strange for Pouncival to think of his friend as so decidedly different a tom. After all, such a gift was more than unusual. But then again it was fitting that the warmth and openness of the black tom should be rewarded with such an offering - or so Pounce thought.  
  
It was one of those blearily sunny days when the air hangs thick and heavy across town, filled with the residues of human vehicles and machinery. There was not much to be done but doze - or, in Pouncival's case, groom oneself. It had hardly ever occurred to him before that his coat, though not exactly smart, was quite nice. Mostly white with brown and black stripes it complimented his eye colour and he was proud of it, especially because it was clean and shiny now, like every other cat's.  
  
His movements were, at times a little clumsy still - or so it seemed to him when he tried to dance as gracefully as Quaxo under Skimble's and Munkustrap's tutelage. In preparation for the Ball, the kittens were all taught the most important steps - the queens had had most practice for their flawless elegance was poignant enough to prompt the young toms to request their training be conducted somewhere else.  
  
Of them it was only Quaxo who, agile as a cat was wont to be, flawlessly performed the dances they were taught. Yet he hardly spoke to them, keeping himself aloof, not even favouring the queens with any interest.  
  
Pouncival didn't want to pry, but since he saw that Tugger was the one the black tom talked to most often, he resolved on asking him for the cause of his friend's remoteness.  
  
"Don't ya worry, it's a stage, nothing more."  
  
"That doesn't really help, you know."  
  
"Ah, Pounce, just trust me, kay? He's fine, just a bit preoccupied with other things. He'll come round."  
  
"We haven't been fishing for quite a few weeks now, you realize that?" Jemi's voice was playful, but kittenish innocence no longer sparkled in her eyes as she sat beside Tumble, her paw on his thigh.  
  
"Then why don't we go?" Etcy said, nudging El who stifled a yawn. "You go, I'm waiting for Quax - he promised to show me something really exiting."  
  
"You might as well wait for Munku to race Demi through the junkyard."  
  
"Hey, nothing's impossible - and he's trying very hard."  
  
"He just doesn't have it - Macavity surely was more interesting than he could ever be."  
  
Pouncival sniffed at Vicky, his eyes blazing, "Munku might not be like _that cat_ but he'll get Demi in the end, I'm sure of that."  
  
"Hero-worshipping again, Pounce, aren't we?"  
  
"Not worse than your Tugger admiration, is it Etcy?"  
  
Tumble cleared his throat, "Why don't we just go before Pounce and Etcy kill each other?"  
  
"Or maybe we should leave the two of you alone so you can…settle…your…differences!" Jemi giggled, jumping up with a squeal as her enraged friend flung herself at her. Pouncival glared at them, getting up and walking away, towards the stream.  
  
Etcy, Jemi and Tumble soon followed him, Vicky went to look for Tugger and El took a nap, still hoping for Quaxo to turn up.  
  
The little party reminded much of the one that had, not too many weeks before, enjoyed the spring air in the meadow. Though the kittens were quieter now, their laughter still bubbled up like the stream as it ran across the stones.  
  
Pouncival was just trying to get away from Etcy's merciless tickling attack, gasping and shrieking when a voice he had believed he had left behind forever called for him, booking no refusal, "KIT!"  
  
The young cats turned around, facing a dirty and mangy stray, towering above them, his face hideously thwarted by the cold glare in his eyes and the scars that ran across his cheeks and forehead.  
  
Pushing himself up to a sitting position, Pouncival looked at the tom, a stranger to him now. Slowly, he shook his head, refusing to see, to believe and to obey. He was no longer a part of that life.  
  
Quick as lighting, the elder cat shot forward, grabbing the kitten roughly by the arms and dragging him away from his friends. Pain registered where the dirty claws pushed through fur and skin, but there was defiance through the all too familiar groping of fear.  
  
Trying to wriggle free, Pouncival muttered a quiet "No" that almost became a chant as he struggled.  
  
"SHUT UP YE DIRTY FILTH!" His cheek stung, something warm trickled through his fur. His past was catching up. He was dropped, suddenly, to the ground, not able to break his fall as the elder tom's leg connected sickeningly accurately with his stomach. His vision blackened momentarily, but he knew the pain, knew the outcome…  
  
"Stop it! Leave him alone, you brute, you…" Pouncival rather heard than saw the stray's paw connecting with Etcy's body, he opened his eyes, saw the dirty sneer, the unchecked heat - lust to take, to hurt, to control - in the face that bore so much and yet so little resemblance to his own.  
  
'Not her, you won't beat her. Never. Not her.' It was less than a conscious thought, more an instinct that made him crawl over, flinging himself across the little queen's prone body just before the next blow connected - his head, his back - 'take your paws up, don't move, tuck yourself in, give him as little room to hit as you can, breathe, breathe, no tears, breathe, don't think, breathe, don't cry'…  
  
His body hurt, he was lost, he had felt so safe and now it was all over…  
  
He didn't notice Tumble receiving a blow to his chin that left him nearly unconscious, nor the arrival of Munkustrap, Skimble and Admetus, called by Jemi. No sound could penetrate the nothingness he was hiding in, that peace and calm that was nowhere as acute as in this little corner of his mind. He was no longer himself, no longer part of his bruised body and he would only go back when he was sure that his father had left. As always…  
  
"Etcy, Pounce!"  
  
His body shifted, not of its own volition. His paws hid his face - 'protect her…it hurts too much…protect her' - he moved, trying to hold onto the little queen, to keep her close, cover her.  
  
"It's ok, I'm fine…" Was that Etcy's voice? So far away and so familiar. A warm body wrapping about him, comforting, coldness again, a stifled sob. He wouldn't open his eyes. 'No more. Play dead. He'll leave.'  
  
"POUNCIVAL, ANSWER ME!"  
  
"Pounce, please, open your eyes, you're safe."  
  
The soft, steady tone registered more easily than the shouting voice - compelling him to take a breath - a stab in his ribcage - another try - pain. 'Etcy!' He opened his eyes - where was she? All before him swam, dizziness overcame him. He focused, knowing it would soon pass. It always did, just never give in to the turning in your head and stomach.  
  
"Lad, can you hear me?"  
  
He tried to speak and couldn't, bile rising in his throat. Here he was again, as helpless as the newborn kitten he had been, as powerless to plead as when he had first been hit…he retched, coughing. Someone patted his back, lightly, yet it hurt where the claws had torn into his skin and the blows had made their mark.  
  
Blearily he opened his eyes again…Skimble? He wanted to reach out, touch the elder tom, but his arm refused to obey - he was lifted, carefully, his body protesting each movement till the dim blackness mercifully took hold of him, plunging him into forgetfulness.  
  
Pouncival had no real wish to open his eyes, he very well knew how to interpret the pain all over his body, it was a familiar sensation that had lain buried in the back of his mind but never been entirely forgotten. The warm tongue on his face didn't quite fit with his memories though so he decided to trust his luck for once and dared to look at whoever was close to him.  
  
It turned out to be Etcy, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, nuzzling his neck, licking his cheek and softly prodding him with her cool nose. She seemed quite affectionate, more so than she had been before and he wondered briefly if he was hurt worse than usually.  
  
That thought didn't keep in his mind for long though since Jenny appeared in front of him, nodding slightly and pronouncing her much feared verdict, "There, he's woken up you see - he'll be as good as new in a week or so, no need to worry Etcy."  
  
Blue eyes met Pouncival's now and the little queen tried to smile, failing miserably as she began sobbing. Jenny was at her side in a flash, hugging and patting her and cooing softly. She led the young cat away at once, leaving Pounce to wonder what he'd done wrong.  
  
"There now, lad, how do ya feel?"  
  
Skimble's voice was rougher than usual, making the accent all the more pronounced. The small tom knew he wouldn't get out any reassuring tone so he smiled slightly, grimacing at the pain in his cheek.  
  
"No need ta talk, there, jest ya rest a little."  
  
It occurred to Pouncival then that the orange tabby was quite as clueless as he was - for Skimble it was hard to find the right words when it came to what had happened and he himself had no way of telling his friends how grateful and happy he was to have woken up where he was, not somewhere on the streets; to express his happiness at still being with them and not with his father.  
  
"Etcy…" he managed, breathlessly and harsh, a painful exhalation. It seemed very important just then to know what he'd done to make her cry.  
  
Skimble sighed with a slight smile, "It's the shock, Jenny says. She was real quiet until now, no emotion in her, not like herself at all, ya know."  
  
Shock? It dawned on Pouncival that it was probably the first time in Etcy's life that she had seen someone being beaten up, she had never been treated roughly in the comfort and safety of her life at the junkyard.  
  
He nodded, grimacing again. He couldn't remember being hit in the chest, but the pain told another story. The orange tabby settled down beside him, patting his head fur hesitantly. "He'll na come back lad, I promise ya."  
  
The finality in the quiet, rich tone shook the little tom somewhat, yet he was sure his father was by no means dead - and that was the only way he'd ever be rid of him as he well knew.  
  
"He will."  
  
It was only fair to point it out - though he shivered at the mere thought.  
  
"Ah, I doubt that, lad. We have dealt with him, make no mistake about that."  
  
Seeing the questioning glance in the large eyes, the orange tabby shook his head, the reassuring smile spreading further, "I know he'll na come back for ya."  
  
It was no explanation, but the little tom had learned that sometimes the adults would rather leave the younger cats in the dark. And he trusted Skimble. In fact, it was surprising how he trusted him and the others in the tribe. He dared believe they would not hurt him, no matter how much he screwed up. And that, for him, was a huge step.  
  
A tear slipped down his cheek and he cursed himself. Crying wasn't for big toms. And it was alright, he had nothing to be afraid of now…and maybe it was just that security that made him feel so light-headed and led his body to shake.  
  
Skimble leaned towards the young cat, carefully picking him up and pulling him into his lap, wrapping the blanket and his arms around his charge, rocking him carefully when the tears began to fall. The words of an old Scottish air rang out quietly, hoarse as the voice that sang them and soothing despite the rough edge of the Northern accent.  
  
Pouncival cried, letting go of his fear, his pain as he buried his head into the orange chest fur and sobbed like the kitten he had never truly been - a frightened little thing who had just been beaten savagely by the one cat he should have been able to trust and look up to.  
  
It was hard for Pouncival to face his friends - he had seen only Quaxo in the week that Jenny had deemed necessary for his 'restoration to health' as she put it. And the black tom hadn't said much, just sat at his side quietly and offered his companionship as if he knew that words were insufficient to explain or comfort.  
  
"There will be no preferential treatment for young Pouncival. It is in the reality of his life with us that he will find his way and his place."  
  
Deuteronomy's advice still rang in everyone's ears when the young tom first joined his friends for a game of tag again. For the kittens it was especially hard to seem unconcerned and wild as usually, even Tumble was careful not to touch Pounce since the bruises were still visible in the white fur.  
  
Quaxo eased best into the situation, for what reason no one could have said. He even dared start a catfight with the other tom, pouncing upon him as he lay basking in the sun. Pouncival was thankful for the rough treatment in a way, for being able to pretend he had never seen his father, that he still could roll around on the floor, swatting at his friends and being nudged playfully in return without having to remember the beating.  
  
A few weeks passed before the tribe had settled down sufficiently to calmly accept what had happened and to regard their newest member with fond amusement and mild paternal anxiety only. Since Pounce turned out to be the author of a few pranks again too, most cats thought he had recovered completely, only some knew better and kept their own counsel.  
  
Among those were Skimble, Munkustrap, Quaxo and Etcy and though their behaviour towards the young tom showed no outward change at all, each of them had grown a little on the inside, a subtle difference that only Pouncival could notice and appreciate.  
  
When Quaxo proposed that his friend move in with him, Plato and Tumble, Munkustrap was by no means convinced that was what his young charge needed, yet he kept his thoughts to himself, quietly passing by Pouncival's new dwelling and leaving an array of fluffy blankets behind in his wake.  
  
The change of place did the little tom good, as well as the boisterous flatmates whose antics forced him to speak up and put himself forward. Having to secure his position with his friends daily brought out the toughness that had been the key to survival in his early youth and he showed himself capable of more than being knocked about. Though not a leader among his mates, he was more of a quiet observer who in his meditation came up with the most outrageous and mischievous plans.  
  
Quaxo, who had lately begun playing with his friends again, was always only too eager to join in the pranks and Tumble and Plato never trailed far behind so that the young ones came to be known as the 'notorious foursome', so as not to be confused with the notorious duo of Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer that lived only to annoy Munkustrap it seemed.  
  
Something that helped the young toms enormously in their ventures was the fact that Quaxo indeed had magical powers. Though not quite in tune with them yet and less honed than they might have been had he practiced more, the black tom could use his gift to levitate little things or make them disappear.  
  
That often came in handy and his friends enjoyed the looks of panic and disbelief on their victims' faces exceedingly. Munkustrap, though less than pleased, never complained too much. He was occupied with other things and often said to Admetus with a sigh and a shrug, "At least it's a way for Quaxo to practice his powers. As long as he doesn't blow up the junkyard…"  
  
While Pouncival adapted to his new place, his fear of meeting his father again slowly dissipating, Etcy learned that there was more to life than she had previously supposed. Though she seemed like the epitome of kittenish cuteness and folly, she was more thoughtful and more considerate of Pounce's feelings than most of the others.  
  
She had caught a glimpse of his deepest fears and also of his commitment to his friends and his courage, something that inspired her to such an extent that she, for all her idolizing of the Rum Tum Tugger, could never truly regard the heartthrob as the one and only tom capable of touching her heart.  
  
Unconscious as that realisation was, it saved her from the disappointment and heartache other young kittens had faced before her when discovering that their kitten love was a simple cat, charming and attractive, with nothing all that extraordinary behind the pretty façade.  
  
For Skimble, Pouncival's past had become a practical reality. He had promised the little tom's father to keep him in drink and food if he would never turn up at the junkyard again. So he set off each Sunday afternoon before going to the station and fulfilled his promise, always making a point of threatening the unkept stray with retribution should he break his part of the bargain.  
  
The orange tabby knew well that the time would come soon enough when Pounce no longer needed the protection, but he was adamant to provide it nevertheless. He was one of the cats who had left the junkyard most often and come in contact with the life outside - seeing the young kitten's haunted eyes and tears had touched him most profoundly - it woke memories of his own life as a stray before being taken in by a friendly human and becoming the railway cat.  
  
With the falling of the first coloured leaves began the preparations for the Jellicle Ball and Pouncival joined in heartily.  
  
He ran errands for Jenny and didn't tease her cockroaches above twice a day to show his willingness to support her - and he helped clean the main assembly area around the huge tire of the scattered bits and pieces of junk.  
  
It was new to him, all this bustling activity and he enjoyed it - not only because he could play tricks and get away with them much easier in the turmoil but also for the simple reason that the approaching event brought a smile to every cat's face and lightened the mood in general.  
  
It was a happy time for him, for each peal of laughter, each smothered giggle drove the memory of the dark alleys that had so recently surfaced again farther out of his mind. And not even the fact that Munkustrap managed to wear a slight frown throughout the most joyous working days did anything to dampen his spirits.  
  
While Quaxo observed that the tabby was very much in love and had either not told his object or been brutally rejected, he didn't seem inclined to concern himself too much with a slightly bad-tempered tabby, and Pouncival couldn't blame him. He was yet seen as a kitten and had the privilege of laughing and playing without worries. And he was determined to get as much out of this as he could…  
  
"Guess what?"  
  
'Your face looks like a full moon glowing.'  
  
"Come on, guess!"  
  
Pounce regarded Quaxo with a slight hint of exasperation. His friend had been hyper for the past two days without telling a soul why. Not that he usually was all that quiet, but this perpetual grin on his face and the slightly bouncing step was just as far from his normal self. "I haven't got a clue, just tell."  
  
"I'm to call all Jellicles to the Ball!"  
  
"Congratulations."  
  
"But that's not the best."  
  
'Oh-oh, he's going to get close to a queen I bet.'  
  
No hint of the young tom's thoughts were visible on his composed features as he asked, his voice as innocent as his looks, "Really? What is?"  
  
"I'm dancing with Vicky!"  
  
'Knew it.'  
  
"Wow."  
  
Not much more was needed, for Quaxo began a detailed account of how Munkustrap had told him Deuteronomy had decided on the pairings for the Ball - who would have the honour of the first speech and who would participate in the ritual mating dance.  
  
Pouncival was surprised that his friend, for all his happiness at being chosen for the invitation, had nothing but praise to offer for Plato who would be Vicky's partner later on. He had thought there was a preference for the young queen on Quaxo's side, but he had to have been mistaken.  
  
"So who're you going to be with?"  
  
"What?" he had lost track of the rambling voice a while ago.  
  
"Whom have you chosen for the mating dance?"  
  
"Chosen? I have to chose someone?"  
  
"Well, yeah, so I thought."  
  
"You got someone then?"  
  
Quaxo blushed slightly, "Kinda…El said she'd like to…ya know and…"  
  
"I get it."  
  
Electra - oh well, he might have guessed as much from the glances she'd spared for his friend of late. Only surprising that Quaxo himself was so…happy about it. Pouncival had to admit he really hadn't given the matter too much thought. After all, that mating dance was largely symbolic - unless you went there with a partner.  
  
And you could only do that if you had a mate - or a queen friend like Quaxo obviously seemed to have. He knew that Jemi and Tumble were a couple, had been for almost two months now. And Vicky was with Plato, if only for that dance. As for Rumple, she had a decided crush on Jerrie and the calico tom would be lucky if he got away from her at the ball.  
  
So, if he had any of his playmates left to ask if she wanted to go with him it would be Etcy. The two of them were very close, having a bond that neither of them could quite explain - they talked much, yet there was no special tenderness in their friendship. And he didn't fancy being strangled by Jenny for touching her precious kitten.  
  
Not that he had a chance anyway - if he had interpreted the hints Etcy had dropped lately correctly, than she had her eyes set on someone entirely different. An older tom, quiet and pleasant and quite attractive if her gushing was any indication. She hadn't told him who it was though…  
  
Suppressing a slightly irritated sigh as he caught Quaxo's questioning glance he said,  
"I don't know. Never really thought about it."  
  
"Ya can't be serious Pounce - none of us has thought of anything else for ages!"  
  
The young tom gave a little choked laugh, "I guess I was just so happy to be left in peace that I…"  
  
Quaxo's dark eyes sparkled, realising at once what his friend meant. He was about to apologize for his lack of thought but opted for a quick hug instead. Words weren't Pouncival's strong side, nor were they his. Their friendship had grown out of the silences and that was where their feelings truly lay.  
  
"I'll just have to think now…"  
  
The spell was broken as quickly as it had been cast, green brown eyes brightening almost perceptibly as a huge grin spread on the white face.  
  
"Any ideas yet?"  
  
"Bomba would be grand."  
  
Quaxo laughed, slapping his friend on the back, "Bom…?"  
  
"You asked!"  
  
'She's only the most sensual and attractive queen at the junkyard and the single most flirty one. She's sure to not only look at me but consider me for the mating dance. Yep, I'm by no means crazy…'  
  
"Well, why not? You might ask her, no harm done."  
  
"I was joking, Quax!"  
  
"No you weren't. Hey, didn't Gus tell us to set our sights at the stars?"  
  
"You're an idiot!"  
  
"No more than yoooouuuu…." Quaxo screamed when his friend pounced upon him, true to his name, tickling the black tom mercilessly.  
  
The Ball was scheduled to begin the following evening and Pouncival still hadn't asked a queen 'out'. Much as he wanted to forget about his talk with Quaxo he couldn't. And he really didn't fancy anyone else but Bombalurina. At least not in a physical aspect. And he wasn't ready for a commitment. Yet if he spent the night with any of his female friends it would mean more than he was inclined to give of himself.  
  
Little as the other kittens suspected it, their willingness to increase their close bond, to deepen the connection with their playmates onto the level of adult cats was something that Pouncival just dared not think about. He preferred not being touched for the most part. If anyone held him he felt weak, and that frightened him.  
  
But then again, sitting at the sidelines during the mating dance wouldn't exactly be grand either. He let out a small sigh as he crept towards the red queen's dwelling. She was sitting in front of her door in the early afternoon sunlight, grooming her fur and chatting with Demeter.  
  
'Great. Not even alone.'  
  
"And then he…Pouncival," Bombalurina inclined her head in greeting and her friend smiled politely.  
  
"Munku's looking for you…" It wasn't exactly a lie he told himself. After all, the tabby was always looking _at_ the pretty queen if not exactly _for_ her.  
  
"Ah, yes, thank you."  
  
It worked like a charm though - Demeter probably wasn't immune to the slow gentle smiles and the consideration and warmth Munkustrap unwillingly exuded the moment he appeared - especially when they were all focused solely on her.  
  
'Good for me.'  
  
"Anything else, Pounce?"  
  
If he hadn't known better he could have sworn she was actually flirting with him - and that tone of voice she had said his nickname in…  
  
"Hey darling, how's it going?"  
  
Tugger. Oh well, it would have been too good.  
  
"Was there anything you wanted to say Pounce?"  
  
"Will you go to the mating da…Ball with me?"  
  
Ouch. He'd done it. If that hadn't been obvious and dead embarrassing he didn't know what was. He might have just asked her to sleep with him. Would have come up to the same thing. Only less formal. Instead of a sneer or a cuff that he had expected for his audacity and impertinence, he received a sweet, if slightly mischievous smile,  
"Why, I'd _love_ to go with you, Pounce dear."  
  
Tugger huffed in a most undignified manner and cast a 'next-time-we-meet-you're-dead' look at the young tom before sidling off.  
  
"Really?" Why he actually asked her if it was so blatantly obvious she was just teasing the tribe's heartthrob was beyond him. Maybe he was more persistent than he had thought. Not that he could embarrass himself any further of course…  
  
Bombalurina shrugged, "Why not. Tug's occupied and I don't fancy flirting my way into someone's bed. You asked, you got it."  
  
She smiled, reaching out her paw to softly trace Pouncival's cheek, "And it's quite a challenge to have the tribe's most mischievous tom in my paws…"  
  
If her look hadn't melted him, her low purr would have liquefied him as he stood there anyway.  
  
"Jellicle Cats come out tonight…"  
  
Pouncival grinned as he crept out of into the moonlit area around the tire. Quaxo was calling to his fellow Jellicles and the Ball had officially begun. The young tom was drawn into the ethereal music that bound the tribe together - melodies that only the cats could hear echoing in their minds as they danced.  
  
He could see Etcy to his left, smiling up at Admetus with a look she had had only for Tugger a month ago. So this was her 'chosen one'. Chuckling quietly, he continued to concentrate on the music, the feelings that it evoked in him, the connection with the stars, the night, the moon and his fellows of the tribe.  
  
While some of the elder cats were honoured for their hard work and achievements - most notably Gus, who sat there amidst them with glassy eyes and a faraway smile, Pouncival was a little bored. He would have preferred dancing and playing, but as it was he had no choice but to sit and listen, occasionally swatting at Quaxo's tail which led to them ending up in a bundle of fur on the ground until Skimble or Munkustrap pulled them apart, shaking their heads in exasperation.  
  
Luckily for the younger cats Tugger made an appearance before they fell asleep, put out at the quarrel with Bombalurina still - or so it seemed as he refused to do as much as look at her. The red bombshell turned her back on him, sidling up to Pouncival.  
  
Quaxo was grinning widely as he saw his friend blush brightly. It was more than he had bargained for, that much was obvious. While the others were dancing and yelling to Tugger, Pounce tried to extricate himself from Bombalurina's arms.  
  
"Ah…really…"  
  
"You asked me, honey."  
  
"Yeah but…not now…or…"  
  
She grinned, giving him a bit of room, but not enough for him to actually move away from her. Pinning him against a junk pile she nuzzled his neck, making him shiver.  
  
"You're cute, dear and as I said quite a challenge…"  
  
A loud hiss behind them made Bombalurina turn around, giving Pouncival time to slip out of her embrace and sidle over to hide amidst his friends. Instead of cat-calls or impertinent remarks, he was greeted with confused and curious expressions all directed at an old queen who tripped across her coat as she stumbled into the yard.  
  
"Who's she?"  
  
Quaxo edged closer, trying to sniff at the newcomer and was, to the younger cats' amazement, quickly nudged away by Munkustrap.  
  
"They don't like her."  
  
Admetus stared at the torn remnants of the fancy clothes, but Tumble and Plato were already whispering to each other as they drew Pouncival closer, "Let's make her leave."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Scratch her!"  
  
"I don't…I…"  
  
"Go Pounce!"  
  
They almost flung him in front of the old queen's feet. Refusing to meet her eyes, Pounce edged closer. If he looked at her he might feel pity - the feeling having been the first to touch him as he noticed her haggard face.  
  
But she wasn't wanted. Much like him. But he had found a place, been accepted. He stopped, raising his chin, his paw extended. She came closer, a contorted grimace resembling a smile stealing onto her features. She could have touched him then…  
  
A whiff of alcohol passed through the still air, the same smell that had emanated from his father when he came to take his frustration out on a small bundle of shivering fur. It almost seemed as if the stench were coming from her, a memory wrapped in dirt and pain - into darkness… He hissed, hatred burning up in him, fear as he scratched the trembling paw in front of him, averting his eyes as he brushed past the old queen, dropped to the ground.  
  
Munkustrap came towards him, angry it seemed but Jenny blocked his way, shaking her head. "That wasn't nice." Etcy tugged his tail hard, incomprehension warring with annoyance as she gazed first at him, then up at the silent figure illuminated by the moonlight.  
  
Alone. So much like him it hurt. She began to sing all of a sudden, quietly at first, her voice rough as if it hadn't been used for a long time. Pouncival couldn't listen, dared not take in the words. He was shivering against an inward chill as he dragged his body into the shadows, away from the others.  
  
He couldn't quite understand why he had hurt her. She hadn't done anything to him. Demeter's voice cut like falling velvet into his thoughts. He listened and still he couldn't comprehend the tale the young queen wove. It did nothing to explain why none of the cats had been allowed to touch the stranger, Grizabella. It only painted a mirrored image of a lonely, cold existence he understood too well and tried to push away from thought.  
  
She was so much like him and for that he despised her - for her power over his thoughts. She could touch a part in him that he had buried, that was hidden from his friends, from every cat that knew him. He wanted to comfort her, offer her his paw. And yet - a step towards her would be a step away from the tribe, from the only place where he was safe. He wasn't brave enough to stand up alone.  
  
And much as that angered him - it scared him even more.  
  
It wasn't long after the old queen had stumbled away from the assembly area again, pursued by the silent hisses that echoed on the night breeze that Mungo and Rumple appeared, apparently very satisfied with themselves and even more so by the fact that Munkustrap's face fell when he saw them.  
  
They had set out to be caught in the midst of mischief, that much was clear to Pouncival. They were experienced burglars and thieves, yet they liked nothing better than to annoy their elders. Which was just what they'd been doing - they had slipped away during the boring recitals and snuck up on fat Bustopher Jones.  
  
That tom ate too much for his own good and he was more spoilt than even Tugger. The only kittens he had ever accepted as his 'equals' in status were Quaxo and Vicky. The former for the tuxedo pattern of his coat and the latter for her wealthy owners and pristine fur.  
  
His favourites had always received titbits - much to their friends' annoyance. Especially the two calicos were overlooked by the pompous cat since they spoke in a harsh Cockney accent, nothing near the posh, overly polite droning he himself used to communicate.  
  
And since Teazer was as good as her name she had decided to pay him back for his disregard - it was clear that Jerrie would be following her lead of course. As it turned out, the two of them had found the stash of 'emergency supplies' the James' Street Cat as he was commonly called had amassed.  
  
And had looted it right from under his nose. The young cats were, of course, delighted by the prank - even Vicky and Quaxo. Munkustrap was annoyed, yet he didn't protest overly much when Rumple flung her arms about his neck, giggling as she shoved a piece of meat pie into his mouth.  
  
Having effectively silenced the tabby, the notorious duo planted themselves in the centre of the assembly area and began to tell of their 'wicked' deed. Since they both were exceptionally comic actors, their audience was howling with laughter when a fat black cat appeared at the sidelines, huffing and puffing and cursing.  
  
He was out of humour and even more out of breath having tried to actually run after the two mischief makers who'd made off with his food. It was Jenny who took it upon herself to get Rumple and Jerrie out of the scrape by offering to see they were punished and leading Bustopher off to get some rest at her place.  
  
"Mind ya don't do that again! Was a good joke, I admit that, but poor Busty almost had a heart attack!"  
  
"Shouldna 'ave run then - 'e oughta know 'e's too fat to go walking right up to the junkyard - and without eating a pie or two on the way!"  
  
Skimble grinned, swatting Mungo's head playfully as he took another bite from a minced meat pie. He didn't really mind the fact that the James' Street Cat had been given a little bit of his own medicine. His high-and-mighty attitude was not exactly endearing. That was probably the reason the calicos would get away with their prank this time the orange tabby mused, eating some more…  
  
The improvised feast on Bustopher's looted emergency larder was cut short by the arrival of Old Deuteronomy. Pouncival sighed happily, rolling onto his back as he licked the last crumbs of a nice cream tart off his fur. Now there'd be more narrations, but the stories the other cats had to tell of the old leader were his favourites, so it wouldn't be too hard to be attentive. Most of the tales he knew already, Munkustrap and, on some occasions Tugger, had used them as bedtime stories when he had lived with them.  
  
Yet it was with even more enthusiasm that the young tom felt the music swelling up inside his mind again suddenly, prompting him as he jumped to his paws, turning around, grinning madly at Quaxo who beckoned him to join him. The two of them had always possessed a silent communion that now became visible as they moved in perfect synch, performing a dance that drew from the experiences they had shared. Their friendship in images of two bodies that mirrored a deeply felt connection - and even the mystical twins looked on in awe.  
  
Their movements rolled through them, exhilarating and exhausting. They barely noticed when the rest of the tribe joined in, only stopping for a brief moment when a sensual note crept into the music and a red flash passed before their eyes.  
  
Bombalurina's movements were more enticing and seducing than simply elegant - she had a purpose in each step, a calling in her body that led her paws. Pouncival's throat went dry and his heart pounded as she wound her way towards him, dancing for him until she touched him and the music faded…  
  
"Macavity!" Demeter's voice sounded shrill and unnatural as something crashed and the lights in the yard began to flicker momentarily.  
  
Pouncival groggily opened his eyes as another scream tore through the stillness of the night. White and red fur touched his nose and he looked up, meeting Bombalurina's gaze. She looked about herself, pulling away, joining the black and golden queen and silently attempting to reassure and calm her.  
  
The young tom sat up, not yet awake and not fully understanding what exactly was happening, until Skimble grabbed his tail, roughly pulling him closer as the elder toms made a circle around the kittens and females.  
  
"Macavity." The word echoed in the night air, spoken time and again by one cat or another. A spark of light lit up a corner and a mass of ginger and white fur, zigzagged with black rose against the illumination. The towering form moved swiftly and lithely as he climbed from his high spot, menacing, his sneer visible, his eyes unfathomable and dark.  
  
"What the hell…" Tugger was cursing as he pointed across his shoulder.  
  
Skimble shouted, "Henchcats!" and raced off, followed by most of the elder toms, Alonzo and Mungojerrie remaining. Tumble, Plato and Quaxo were cowering beside Pouncival in the circle of queens.  
  
The young tom was hard at work trying to grasp what was happening. There was a cat he had never seen before and heard only bad things about - a fiend threatening the tribe. And there were his followers who had engaged the elder toms in a fight already. So what was their leader waiting for, what was he doing?  
  
Pouncival hardly noticed he was shivering until Etcy rubbed against him, her paw on his back, trying to soothe, "It's ok."  
  
She understood the fear in the wide eyes and saw the panic her friend was working himself into. A big strong tom - like his father and not like him. Powerful and menacing. She purred softly, hugging Pounce.  
  
His trembling subsided somewhat, but he was still tense, his muscles straining as did his ears and eyes, even his nose as he was sniffing for any scents, any indication of the dirt and slime of Tottenham Court. He always expected every bad thing to smell like his father - of alcohol and dirt. It had made him lash out at Grizabella and was what made him cower now.  
  
"You're not welcome here. Leave us alone."  
  
Munkustrap's words registered in Pouncival's mind and he looked up, staring in disbelief at the tabby who stood tall and proud and yet didn't quite match the other tom in height or strength - unless appearances were more than deceiving.  
  
"My friends and I just wanna join the party - dance with the queens…" a pointed look at Demeter followed and the young queen crouched, hissing low in her throat. Bombalurina stood beside her, stony faced, glaring daggers at the large tom.  
  
"What do we do?"  
  
"We just…"  
  
It happened too fast for them to actually comprehend it - the ginger form lunged at Munkustrap, throwing the other tom off balance and to the ground. He was looking for a fight by all appearances - and he wasn't alone. It seemed that there were more henchcats than the elder cats had seen, for a good number of them suddenly appeared.  
  
Alonzo and Mungojerrie panicked at the onslaught, but they stood their ground for all they were outnumbered and looked like frightened kittens. Plato and Tumble came to stand by them and even Quaxo moved in the general direction of the fight that broke out, steering clear of the strays as well as he could.  
  
He would, now and then, shoot a little bolt of lightning at the attackers, hiding in the shadows - a silent hunter. Stealth was more in his nature than open confrontation. Pouncival was beginning to shiver again, a stupor taking hold of him. He was paralysed with fear - the strays all bearing a resemblance to one single cat whose face, voice and mannerisms he couldn't forget.  
  
A screech and the queens scattered when Munkustrap was flung to the ground near them, hiding as best as they could amidst the junk piles. Bombalurina and Rumple didn't run though, standing guard over Etcy, Jemi, Vicky, El and Pounce who had not managed to get away. The young tom felt ashamed, forcing his paws to move to at least help them.  
  
He crawled up to them, raising his body and head only when he was at their side, hearing the hiss of big tom in front of him, smelling the foul breath. He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them, staring at sunken eyes. He flinched, his claws extracted, frozen suddenly by the cool gaze.  
  
"Pounce!"  
  
It was Etcy - her voice as shrill as it always was when she was nervous or excited. The sound drew him back into his body and he hit the cat in front of him, no real force behind the blow. But the stray stumbled back nevertheless, probably because of the stone that had hit him in the stomach full force. Jemi was frightened - but her aim was always remarkable.  
  
A gasp at his side drew his attention to the catfight between Munkustrap and the ginger intruder. The tabby lay on his side, motionless. How badly he was hurt the young tom couldn't say - his eyes were caught by those of the tall, imposing tom. No wonder both Bomba and Demeter had found him compelling. He was a striking appearance, no doubt there. And right now he was making for them, for the queens.  
  
Where was Tumble? Where Quaxo? Plato was trying to handle a handful of toms a little farther off he noted, Rumple was with him - how had she moved there so quickly? Bombalurina was behind him, telling the young queens to follow her, moving them away.  
  
Pouncival felt the overwhelming urge to run himself - to vanish into the shadows - Macavity personified the traits that had been so frightening in his father without the weakness that came from drinking. The ginger tom was wide awake, alert and powerful - and therefore all the more dangerous and threatening.  
  
Yet Pouncival couldn't move, he simple cowered, his heart racing and his sight blurring slightly as a tear slid down his cheek. His claws dug into the ground, as if seeking a hold before he was flattened by the onslaught of his fears. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Alonzo stand up, blocking the other tom's path, bracing himself against Macavity's blows.  
  
He was flung aside, as was Jerrie after throwing himself at the taller cat, landing face down a few metres away. Looking around him, Pouncival saw he was alone. His heart beat faster as the ginger silhouette rounded up on him, the only real remaining target. He barely noticed that there was yet a queen near him - a black and golden queen who was as frozen in terror as him.  
  
He noticed her only when his eyes followed the leering gaze that Macavity levelled at her. There was more at stake there than a beating. He knew how much it hurt, he knew the odds of his being able to stand this through. But she was alone, like him. And she couldn't hold off the ginger tom.  
  
Turning away from Pouncival, the tall cat moved towards Demeter, the young tom no obvious threat to him. Pounce's mind blanked suddenly, all thought gone as he lounged himself at Macavity, clinging to his back, his claws digging into the strong shoulders and back, his teeth embedded in the muscular neck.  
  
As much as the elder cat hissed and turned, swatting at Pouncival, the young tom wouldn't let go. He felt the pain in his side and along his thighs, but it was with the same remoteness that descended upon him each time he was hit - he was no longer himself, he simply held on. It didn't matter.  
  
Closing his eyes he refused to let fear or thoughts enter his mind. As long as there was nothing to distract him from nothingness he was safe. His jaws clenched as a particularly vicious blow registered in his mind, his side warmer than it should have been, his fur heavier as with blood.  
  
The unconscious response of his jaws elicited a sharp groan from Macavity and Pouncival felt his concentration falter, the pain breaking through the dams, flooding his senses, his grip loosening. Another hit against his side and he screamed, sliding to the ground sobbing now.  
  
His eyes opened just barely to see the laughing sneer in the black and ginger face, the cold gaze. Not his father - this tom was more dangerous - Pouncival cringed and yet there was something in him, a sudden fire and anger. He was frightened but he was also seething with fury.  
  
Never safe, no matter where - and Macavity only stood for all that he had so abhorred about his father, about his life as a stray, alone on the streets. His claws ground deeply into the soil as his muscles flexed. His hiss sounded unnatural and strangled amidst his sobs as he lashed out, truly hitting back for the first time, leaving deep marks in the leering grimace.  
  
Rolling to his side, he stumbled to his paws, unsteadily swaying, hurting and awaiting Macavity's approach. He might not be able to withstand the other tom, but he was willing to try. It didn't matter after all. But if he went down he wouldn't go down easily.  
  
"My life's worth fighting for," he mumbled, not even realizing he had said as much as a bolt of blue lightning sparked across the ground only centimetres from his paws.  
  
"Don't move, Pounce!" Quaxo's voice carried across the hissing from around him, coming from the depth of one junk pile or another. Pouncival tried to keep standing, not daring to step either forwards or back. His friend still had not the best control of his powers. It wasn't safe to jump in his way…  
  
It seemed that, a few lightning bolts later, Macavity realized as much, retreating with a sharp whistle that sent his henchcats scurrying off after him.  
  
"I'll be back!" The deep voice boomed across the junkyard before a blast of sparks put out the lights and darkness fell as the moon was obscured by a cloud. The reason for the ginger tom's appearance remaining as unknown as the secret of the sudden loss of power that marked his disappearance.  
  
"Jellicle Cats come out tonight, Jellicle Cats come one come all - don't be afraid."  
  
There was no saying where Deuteronomy had been but his tone was soothing and the dispersed tribe assembled slowly. Almost each cat had scratches, even the young queens. Rumple sported a black eye and Jerrie and Alonzo were holding on to each other for balance. Pouncival couldn't see Munkustrap, but he assumed the tabby was still alive when the kittens and Bombalurina left him with winks and knowing smiles to Demeter's overly solicitous care.  
  
"You alright, lad?"  
  
Pouncival nodded, slowly. He dimly realized he was still crying and his body was shaking. Skimble patted his head fur, "It's over now, lad. He's gone."  
  
Gone… Like his father. But always in his thoughts.  
  
The Jellicle Ball had ended with the fight - the dancing wasn't resumed with the morning, the magical music having disappeared and no longer making itself heard. It was a sober assembly that welcomed the rising sun and it broke up soon after dawn. Bombalurina offered Pouncival to take care of him. He readily agreed, seeing the wistful look she cast at Tugger who was surrounded by the young queens.  
  
The heartthrob didn't look at her. "Let's get you back on your feet, shall we, Pounce?"  
  
He didn't believe her pretence at light heartedness, nor did he care. He gratefully accepted the comfort and care she offered him. His body hurt and he didn't want to be alone. For once, he wanted to be held, feel the warmth of another cat against him.  
  
Only a day, he told himself. Bombalurina made him stay three. They didn't speak. Neither of them could offer the other what they sought apart from their physical presence. It wasn't easy to leave the red queen's dwelling, to set paw into real life again. Yet it had to be done. And the well-known step coming towards the door was all the more reason to leave.  
  
Pouncival smiled slightly, acknowledging Tugger with a light salute as he slipped outside, careful not to put too much weight on his left hind paw for his side still hurt and though the scratches had begun to heal he felt a little weak.  
  
He would simply go back to his friends, hope they wouldn't ask questions and get some more sleep. He wasn't prepared to face the rest of the tribe yet though, so he took the back route, passing through the outer areas of the junkyard where he had first played with the other kittens.  
  
"Hey, orange. Got me stuff?"  
  
Pouncival gasped, retreating a few steps, then halting as he saw no place to hide. The mangy tom in front of him smelled of alcohol of which he had clearly had too much already. The bleary bloodshot eyes focused only slowly and then the tom sneered, sniffing in disgust,  
  
"Got a queen now, kit, eh. How did ya get her? With begging?" The humourless bitter laugh made Pouncival's ears twitch and yet he stood, pushing his shoulders back and forcing his chin up. He had tackled Macavity and survived. The tom in front of him was less of a threat if objectively regarded.  
  
"Get out of my way."  
  
Pouncival hardly recognised his own voice. It was firm and loud and clear. No trembling in his tone, no shiver in his body. The stray was clearly taken aback, yet he stepped forward, glaring and extracting his claws.  
  
"Ya don't talk back ta me, kit!"  
  
"You have nothing to say to me."  
  
"I'm yer father!"  
  
The young tom straightened, ignoring the pain in his side and the protest of his muscles, "No."  
  
"I'll teach ya, brat…"  
  
Pouncival hissed, jumping forward and knocking the elder cat to the ground, his paw at the other's throat, his claws grazing the soft flesh, "No."  
  
It was enough. His eyes conveyed all the meaning that lay in the one word he had uttered. He was still hissing when he said, very quietly, "I'm not afraid of the likes of you."  
  
"Pounce, lad!"  
  
Skimble ran up to his side, panting and worried, a bottle and some fish grasped in his paws. The young tom got off his father and, without taking his eyes off the prone figure mumbled, "Let's go."  
  
The orange tabby stared at the cat in front of him for a moment and then nodded, curtly, "Aye lad, let's go."  
  
The tom on the ground cursed at their retreating backs but he was obviously still too dazed to actually approach or attack them.  
  
Pouncival never looked back. He was walking away from his past. It was enough to know that his father was no longer a threat to him. He was free to follow his own path, to make his own choices and live his own life.  
  
Night had fallen on the seedy area known as Tottenham Court and on the Jellicle Junkyard. A young white tom with dark stripes and a brown spot over his left eye lay curled up between his mates, dreaming of fishing in the stream near the vicarage cemetery.  
  
His lips curved into a slight smile as the taste of fresh fish lingered on his tongue and he turned around drowsily, opening his eyes. Taking in his surroundings he sighed softly, letting his body slump onto the coloured blankets in a contented sprawl.  
  
The weather was growing colder again, but for once the autumn held no menace, only the warmth of companionship and a home he belonged to.  
  
End.  



End file.
